


Mistress of the Dark Lord

by AmandahLeigh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Angst and Porn, BDSM, Bondage, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/F, F/M, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Spoilers, Heavy Angst, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Physical Abuse, Porn With Plot, Public Sex, Rape, Rough Sex, Sex, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2018-08-29 14:34:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 82,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8493640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmandahLeigh/pseuds/AmandahLeigh
Summary: Bellatrix Black Lestrange is 46 years old, a little mental, devoted to the Dark Lord... and pregnant. When Bella cannot control her emotions as she used to, she looks to her sister for advice. No, not Narcissa. Andromeda. Even though they're estranged. But when they consume too much wine, Bella reveals something she never meant to - something dangerous to reveal. Then, after defying the Dark Lord, Bellatrix is tortured by her lover within an inch of her life... but remains convinced he loves her. He must. He wouldn't have given her the gift of their child if he didn't. Overwhelmed by conflicting emotions and bitter about the assault, Bellatrix is confined to bed, confronting her demons alone.She eventually gives birth at Malfoy Manor to a premature but healthy baby and is thrust into a role she'd never imagined she'd embrace so fully: motherhood. Finally, clutching her infant daughter, Bella sneaks away, though she should be awaiting her Master's wrath after the Golden Trio stole Hufflepuff's Cup from her vault, to seek assistance from a man she loathes but, most unfortunately, needs: Hogwarts Headmaster Severus Snape.She lives for the Dark Lord. Will she die for him?





	1. SICK

** **

**CHAPTER ONE: SICK**

"What's wrong with you?" asked Rodolphus, staring at his wife across the dining room table at Malfoy Manor. He knew she wouldn't be happy to learn they were out of jam, but to cry over it? Bellatrix never cried. Over anything. He couldn't even remember her crying on their first day in Azkaban, when he and his brother had both wailed like toddlers protesting naptime while she seemed to see her sentencing and imprisonment as a source of pride, a fact not lost on the Dark Lord when He returned.  
  
"Go to hell!" Bellatrix slammed her hand down on the table so hard the silverware rattled. "There's not a bloody thing wrong with me. What's wrong with you is that your small mind forgot to get the jam."  
  
"Had a bit else on my mind. The Wizarding World is preparing for war – or hadn't you noticed?"  
  
"Go to hell," she said again. "Expected to prepare for war but can't manage to remember the jam. Fat lot of good you'll be. I thought that last battle with Potter broke your leg, not your brain."  
  
"I don't think a jar of jelly will be responsible for the demise of Potter, Bellatrix."  
  
She glared at him, dark eyes flashing madly.  
  
"No, but it may well factor into yours."  
  
"Psycho, that's what you are," muttered Rodolphus, returning to his Daily Prophet and toast. Bellatrix picked up her tiny porcelain tea cup and chucked it in his general direction. He ducked and it shattered against the wall behind him, which just made her angrier.  
  
"Fuck!"  
  
"What's all the noise?" asked Narcissa as she entered the kitchen, looking concerned. Followed closely behind her was her husband, Lucius.  
  
"Ask her," snapped Rodolphus. "She's gone round the bend, crying over jam."  
  
"I don't cry!"  
  
"Are you feeling alright?" Narcissa tried to place her hand on her sister's forehead but Bellatrix pulled away. "You weren't feeling well yesterday or the day before. Actually, you've been a bit off for the last couple of weeks. Perhaps you're coming down with something. You look paler than usual. Sickly."  
  
"Nonsense," said Lucius. "She looks fine to me." He smiled at Bellatrix in that way he always used to – half like he was afraid of her, and half like he wanted to take her to bed – before their relationship, if it could be called that, deteriorated fully into one of mutual loathing.  
  
Bellatrix hated that smile.  
  
While she wasn't exactly crazy about the mess she'd married, at least she could be confident he wasn't fucking everything that moved behind her back, unlike her brother-in-law. Why Narcissa put up with him she didn't know. No, that wasn't quite true. She knew. Narcissa put up with him because he was a Malfoy, a well-respected wealthy man from a notable pureblood family, a man with whom she could enjoy both status and security (save for that nasty mishap in the Ministry last year, which led to Lucius being sent to Azkaban thanks to The-Brat-Who-Lived). Bellatrix supposed she could understand her sister's uncanny ability to entirely overlook each of Lucius' many affairs, though she would never allow herself to be disrespected in that way. It was bad enough that she allowed herself to remain with a man who could live with knowing his wife was screwing around and didn't seem a bit bothered by it.  
  
What was wrong with him anyway?  
  
Most men would hit the roof if they so much as suspected their wife was shacking up behind their backs, but when she first told him of her intentions to do just that, mere months after they were married in June, 1973, he said "Do what you feel you have to." That was all. "Do what you feel you have to."  
  
And later, much later, after they'd broken free from Azkaban, once they'd brought back the Dark Lord and once it started to seem that their side would overtake Dumbledore and his Muggle-loving army, when she told Rodolphus in no uncertain terms that she intended to return to the embrace of the man with whom she'd long cuckolded him, her pathetic husband merely shrugged again and replied, "If you'd like." As if she were telling him they'd be having pasta for dinner. "If you'd like."  
  
Not that he could've stopped her anyway. She did what she wished. She had a problem with authority figures. Always had. And no man would be stupid enough to deny the Dark Lord his requested pleasure. But if might have been nice if her husband had at least pretended to protest.

After breakfast, of which Bellatrix ate no more, she returned to the bedroom she and Rodolphus were sharing in Malfoy Manor. She had been planning to change to go out for the day, but a swirling feeling in the pit of her stomach overwhelmed her and moments later she was rushing to the toilet to throw up. Again. For the ninth time in two weeks. She was hunched over, still dry-heaving, when she felt a hand on her back. Narcissa.

Dammit, she'd forgotten to charm the door locked.

"You're not well," said Narcissa simply, rubbing her hand in comforting circles. "Should we talk about it? I know… I think I know… what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong."

"Bella."

"Cissy."

"You can talk to me."

"I've nothing to talk about."

"Fine." Narcissa gathered her sister's hair back away from her face and the toilet as Bellatrix dry-heaved again. Using her wand, Narcissa tied the hair back in a low ponytail with a green ribbon. The look was a bit odd on the elder sister, whose untamed black hair was as much a part of her post-Azkaban image as her heavy-lidded eyes, gaunt face, and slim frame.

"You were quite pretty when we were younger, you know," said Narcissa, who then clapped her hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I was quite pretty," Bellatrix agreed, sounding… not at all like herself. Her voice wasn't harsh or sarcastic or angry, as Narcissa might have expected. On the contrary, she sounded sad. Perhaps even remorseful. "He found me very attractive, you know. Always. He told me. Back then… before… before that damn prophecy, before that dreadful baby with his wretched scar. He didn't love me, not in the way I loved Him, but it didn't matter. He desired me. Only me. Only I was ever worthy of Him in that way. He'd use others, sometimes, but that was to assert his dominance over them, to remind them of their place. With me… back then… you wouldn't know Him. It's not the same now. He still wants me on occasion. Physically, He wants me. But it's not at all the same."

"The Dark Lord?" Immediately Narcissa realized she'd said the wrong thing.

"What business is it of yours?" asked Bellatrix, her harsh voice back to normal. She stood up, flushed the toilet, and used a charm to clean out her mouth. "What right do you have to pry into my business, baby sister?"

"I'm sorry, Bella."

"You should be. Get out. Go. I need… I have a lot to do today."

"Of course." Narcissa found herself ducking her head, as if a servant bowing to her master. It made her crazy, having to act inferior to anyone, particularly her own flesh and blood, but that's the way it had always been with them, even in childhood. Bellatrix was the protector of her younger sisters, but that position came with a price, and the cost was the knowledge that they were beneath her. Though the two were close in many ways, especially after their parents cast out Andromeda, Bellatrix never hid the fact that she felt she was on a pedestal above everyone. Above her relatives, above other Slytherins, and later, above other Death Eaters, especially their wives… Everyone including her own sister. She was, after all, His chosen one. For the first ten years after she joined the Death Eaters, He avoided putting her in harm's way, but spent more time coaching and training her than He had anyone else. He taught her Occlumency, Legilimency, wandless magic, to perform the Unforgivable Curses, to conjure the Dark Mark in the sky. He taught her how to satisfy a man. How to satisfy a woman. He taught her how to do what He liked. He invested in her.

Once Narcissa was back downstairs and Bella was again alone, this time with the door locked, she started to get dressed. Suddenly, though, she felt exhausted. Physically and emotionally. She decided a teensy rest on the bed couldn't hurt. Lying on her back, staring at the ornate ceiling, she absentmindedly let her hands run over her lower belly, where, even though she couldn't see a significant change yet, she knew it was growing. Would He be pleased? She wanted to please Him. And He had suggested she be "less careful" with Him, when it came to those matters. He had additionally demanded she refrain from giving herself to her husband or anybody else until further notice, which was hardly a sacrifice, especially considering her husband had still been in Azkaban at the time. Not that it would've been difficult to abstain from sex with him even if he weren't in prison. Hell, she'd been avoiding going to bed with Rodolphus since the day they got married – and she wasn't looking for any reason to increase their intimate encounter times now, nor was she on the prowl for others.

She couldn't ask Him, but she had the distinct feeling this is what He wanted. But why? She wasn't stupid. She knew they weren't traditionally in love so it wasn't romantic. They weren't married so it wasn't her duty. It certainly wasn't to express or reveal their feelings for each other or to see what they could create together.

He wanted an heir. That had to be it.

Why now?

What happened when Dumbledore died?

That was the night everything changed. The night He changed. Not that she minded.

Dumbledore was dead.

He was pleased. More than pleased.

He was insatiable.

The way He used to be.

And she was more than willing.

But she couldn't deny something was different.

During the first war, between 1968 and 1981, He'd been abundantly clear that she was not to let this happen, not under any circumstances. Once, maybe a year before the Potter boy was born, she realized she had screwed up. She suspected she was expecting and quite frankly she wasn't sure whether it was His or her husband's, so she told Him first, and He flew into a rage. He grabbed her by her hair, threw her roughly onto the bed, and hit her several times, not with magic, but with his fists. When He finally backed away, her left eye was swollen, there were red marks along her throat, and she was bleeding from her lip and nose. Then He hit her again, this time with the strongest Cruciatus Curse she'd ever had to withstand.

When the abuse was finally over, He subsequently assured her there would be more pain to come if she didn't take care of the problem.

So she sought assistance from a trusted mediwitch.

Together, they took care of the problem.

And again He seemed pleased.

And they resumed their normal ways.

More carefully.

She was in love with Him. Of that much she was certain. And the thought of carrying His offspring inside her filled her with happiness and pride. But what if she'd read Him wrong? What if it was not at all what He wanted? What if He turned on her again, beat her like before, made her get rid of it? On the bed, still resting her hand on her abdomen, Bella's eyes filled with tears.

Fuck.

Bellatrix never cried. Not for her child, not as a child, not when Father died. Not when Mother died.

But the night her beloved Dark Lord was defeated by that scar-marked baby?

She locked herself in a room and screamed and sobbed and broke anything and everything she could. She cried not only for what could have been for the Wizarding World but for what could have been for her. Her womb had never felt more empty before, not even when that mediwitch was done with her. She was nearly certain she'd never see her Master again and had lost her only chance to carry inside her half of Him. She couldn't give up hope. Not yet. She wanted to find Him, to restore Him to health, to bring Him back, to lay with Him again. She cried because she wasn't sure whether there was any reason to have that hope. No one had ever survived the Killing Curse. No one had ever had it rebound that way. No one. So she cried until she had no tears left. Then she'd dried her eyes, changed her clothes, gathered her husband, brother-in-law, and another young Death Eater, and went out looking for revenge. Well, technically they were out looking for information, seeking any possible way to find and fix their former master, but revenge… it felt so good. Torturing the Longbottoms, it felt so good. She hit them with hexes and curses He'd taught her, a few He'd developed himself, and, of course, the Cruciatus, over and over and over. Watching them writhe in pain made her feel closer to Him.

Even when their fat-kneed baby toddled into the room, when he looked up and saw them tormenting his drooling father and dumbstruck mother, even when that one-year-old started to cry, she felt good. For a moment. She felt good for a moment, and then that empty feeling crept into her womb again and suddenly she couldn't stand his tears.

She grabbed him by his pudgy arm and yanked him roughly from the living room into the hall. Pointing her wand directly at the space between his eyes, she murmured, "Obliviate."

His expression went blank.

"Bellatrix, what the hell are you doing?" called her brother-in-law, Rabastan. "We've got to get out of here."

Baby Neville, his eyes still unfocused, reached up toward Bellatrix, fat fingers wiggling, as if she might pick him up, might comfort him in his confusion. For a wild moment, she considered it. Then, for reasons even she couldn't put into words, Bellatrix slapped baby Neville hard across the face. His blank expression dissipated, replaced by tears.

"Mama!" he wailed.

"Until we meet again," she whispered.

"Bellatrix!" She made it back to the living room, but the disapparation charms were already in place – Ministry Aurors had arrived. They were caught.

On the bed in Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix replayed this scene over and over again in her head. Wittle baby Longbottom, sniveling and wailing in the hall of his home after witnessing the torture of his parents, which he would never remember, thanks to her. Why had she done it? Why erase his memory? Why ease his pain? The charm she'd hit him with was so strong she'd have been surprised to learn he could still respond to his own name after that, but she'd done it so his last memory of his parents wouldn't be of seeing them being tortured into endless insanity. Why did she want to pick him up? Why had she slapped him? Why couldn't she stand his blank baby eyes staring up at her, almost as if dead? Her own eyes filled yet again with tears.

Damn it.

If the next seven-or-so months would be like this, she'd lose her reputation as a bloodthirsty sadist and lover of torture and be relegated to… to… to… to being nothing but a trophy wife, like her sister, stuck away from the action, existing only to provide emotional support (and occasional physical release) to the men doing the real fighting.

The notion disgusted her, as did the tears now escaping from the corners of her eyes. She was acting like such a girl! She shook her head, trying to erase the mental image, trying to wrap her brain around what to do next. She had to tell Him, of course. Him, and no one else. She hoped He would be pleased. She hoped she'd read His signals correctly. She hoped He'd still want to fuck her once He knew. She hoped He might want even more.

She'd been obsessed with Him for so long.

They'd met in a pub down on Knockturn Alley when she was barely seventeen, about to start her final year at Hogwarts. He was still handsome then (thought, quite honestly, she still found Him handsome now, despite his bald head, sallow skin, and lack of nose). He was 41 years old and as charming as He'd been back during his Slug Club days. It was 1968. He wasn't quite to the world as Lord Voldemort yet. He was quiet with His identity, despite already having left Tom Riddle behind. He was still gathering followers and gaining power, but on the sly. He'd actually been gathering followers since His own days at Hogwarts, and He was planning something big.

She was wearing a form-fitting black dress with a corset top and lace overlay bottom that had once belonged to Sirius' mother, her aunt, who gave it to her when she was finally forced to accept she'd never have a girl. He was wearing floor-length dark gray robes over a Muggle suit, which He explained by saying, "It was necessary in order to fit in around London today, on business." It was clear from His tone that He resented this.

When He first spotted her, she was sitting alone at a table, nursing a firewhiskey, which burned her throat as it went down. She rarely got any alone time at home or at Hogwarts so she was trying to enjoy it. She also rarely had any interest in alcohol but wanted to appear older than seventeen. She was reading Magick Moste Evil. He noticed that first.

No, that was a lie.

The first thing He noticed was the way the corset top clung to her thin frame and the round curve of her breasts.

He noticed her high cheekbones, dark eyes, and the white of her skin in stark contrast with her untamed curly black hair.

He noticed the way she presented herself with an air of better, as if her personal worth greatly exceeded that of everyone else in the pub, as if the others all belonged in such a dank, dusty place, while she happened to find herself there simply because there were no suitable castles nearby over which she could preside.

The last thing He noticed was her restricted reading material.

"Mind if I sit?" He smiled.

She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not looking for a friend," she said finally, returning to the book.

"Neither am I. I asked for a place to sit, nothing more," He said, still smiling.

In spite of herself, she smiled back. "In that case…" she gestured to the chair beside her.

They started to talk. Everyone once in awhile, He would touch her – stroke her arm, brush her hand, nudge her knee with His own – and she was surprised to find she didn't hate it.

"Magic isn't for Muggles," He'd told her during that first conversation. "And it's not for Mudbloods either."

He'd bought her a drink. Then another.

She was a virgin but not altogether inexperienced, so when He invited her up to the room He was renting above the tavern, she didn't consider saying no. She worshipped Him from that very first conversation and was obsessed with Him forever afterward. In His rented room, in His bed, He was as passionate as He'd been downstairs when talking about the race war to rid the world of Muggleborns and restore Wizards to their rightful place, above all others, but it was a rougher passion. He'd pinned her down by the wrists, bit her neck, drew blood from her lower lip, made her hurt… _there…_ and, to her complete surprise, it felt good. She didn't know pain could feel so good. She knew inflicting it on others entertained her, excited her, but this was new.

When He was satiated and she was struggling to remember how to stand in order to dress herself, she told Him she wanted to join His cause.

"I knew you would," He said. "I knew the moment I saw you that you were going to be one of us."

One of us. She liked that.

She spent her last year at Hogwarts fantasizing about Him. She was certain they'd be married and go on to rule the Wizarding World together. They'd have a child, two perhaps, a boy and a girl, and raise them the way Wizarding families should. Their son would grow up to be His successor. Their daughter would marry a member of a notable old family, one of the Sacred 28, and make them proud.

But that didn't exactly happen. Instead, He encouraged Bellatrix to marry Rodolphus, a pureblood wizard from a noble Slytherin family... a member of the Sacred 28, but not what she wanted for herself.

He had her help him recruit the Lestranges and others to their cause. He trusted her with secrets no one else was privy to.

But He did not love her, nor did He pretend to – not in the way she wanted.

"This is precisely why He doesn't love you," she scolded herself aloud, wiping the tears from her eyes. "You're weak. You've always been weak."

Except that wasn't true. Bellatrix had never been weak. Never in the 46 years of her life leading up to this moment had she ever been weak, not even in Azkaban.

It was the baby. The damn baby was making her weak. Did all babies do this to the women who carried them? She could ask Narcissa. No. She could not ask Narcissa. Narcissa could not know. He would be angry if Narcissa knew. And Narcissa might give it away to others, to those like Snape who could use Legilimency, or to Lucius in bed at night, or to any one of the many Death Eaters who were in and out of Malfoy Manor with increasing frequency. She trusted Narcissa in many ways, but her sister's mind was an open book. So no, she could not ask Narcissa for advice. 

But there was someone else she could ask.

Someone she hadn't seen or spoken to in years.

Her other sister.

Andromeda.


	2. REUNION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellatrix unexpectedly drops in on her least favorite sister.

**CHAPTER TWO: REUNION**

Bellatrix couldn't believe how easy it was to break the wards around her sister's house. Surely with her husband and daughter both marked for death, she would have had the Ministry help to make sure…

Oh, that's right. The Ministry was under the Dark Lord's control now. In spite of her predicament, Bellatrix smiled. Then it occurred to her: what if Nympadora or Ted Tonks was inside the house? What would she do? She certainly couldn't let them live. The Dark Lord would be most disappointed in her if she did. But if she killed them, Andromeda would be even less likely to willingly share information with her.

Ah, well. She'd have to take that chance.

Breaking down the last of the apparition wards, she closed her eyes, and a moment later appeared in her younger sister's kitchen.

"Merlin's beard!" cried Andromeda, jumping up and spilling her tea in the process. "It's you!" She drew her wand. Bellatrix already had hers out. They were both at the ready, prepared to kill in order to live if that was necessary.

"I did not come to hurt you," said Bellatrix. "Besides, if I wanted it, you'd be dead already."

"You overestimate your abilities, Bella," said Andromeda. "You always have."

"I do not think this is the best time for you to be starting a game of 'who does it better,' do you?"

"I think it's time to tell me why you're in my home. My husband isn't here, as if you're unaware. He's on the run from Snatchers, as is my son-in-law. My daughter could be killed any day, and with her my unborn grandchild, thanks to your fellow Death Eaters. So as you can probably imagine, you're not welcome here."

"Your…" Bellatrix shook her head. She'd forgotten that her younger sister would soon become a grandmother, news delivered recently to the Dark Lord by none other than Severus Snape, the "faithful servant" whose loyalty Bellatrix never stopped doubting.

A grandmother.

It was difficult to fathom. Surely they weren't that old, not yet.

"Your grandchild?" said Bellatrix. Andromeda sneered.

"Yes. My future grandbaby, whose life is in danger every moment of every day simply because his parents are…"

"Blood traitors?"

"A metamorph and a werewolf."

"No, they're in danger because they're blood traitors. The Dark Lord would be pleased to have more werewolves fighting beside us. We have Fenrir Greyback…"

"Hardly a ringing endorsement for your side…"

"There are others, too. But your werewolf is a blood traitor, as is your daughter, as are you. Do you know what the Dark Lord could do with a metamorph? How useful she could be to us? Is your loyalty to your Muggle-born husband worth the life of your grandchild?"

"Is that why you've broken into my home? To inquire about the safety of my unborn grandchild?" Andromeda sat back in her chair, still keeping her wand trained on Bellatrix. "How thoughtful of you, dear sister. I had no idea you cared. Why didn't you bring Narcissa along? We could've had such a lovely reunion. Look, I made tea."

"Save it."

"Get out."

"Not yet!" Bellatrix twirled her own wand around her forefinger. "I need you… I need information from you, and I don't care if I have to torture you to get it."

"Well, there's the Bellatrix Black I've always known and loved, truly Mother's daughter, eh? Willing to do what it takes to get what you want. Torture away. You know as well as anyone that I can handle myself under at least two of the Unforgivable Curses and I daresay should you attempt the third, if I fail to shield myself from it, you won't be getting much information out of me afterward anyway."

A cat-like smile spread across Bellatrix's face as she circled closer to her prey. "Oh, little sister? You want me to try an Unforgivable on you? Hm? Is that what you're saying? You know I'd love to. Nothing would give me more pleasure than to see you writhing in pain. The Cruciatus is my strength, which I'd love to share with my favorite blood-traitor blood relation." As she spoke, she made her way closer to Andromeda, who was still seated, until she was hovering over her. "Tell me, have you ever been tortured before, Muggle-lover? Would you like to be?" Bellatrix ran the tip of her wand down Andromeda's arm, her eyes open so wide she almost looked innocent. "Yes? You want to see what it's like?"

"Are you trying to scare me or pick me up in a pub?" asked Andromeda, who was the only person who knew how Bellatrix and Voldemort met. "You know, darling, I've never been one for this casual flirtation you and Narcissa seem to have perfected at an early age. Tell me, do you still give others the impression you're 'more than kin and less than kind' or have you managed to rein it in for the sake of appearance?"

Bellatrix laughed. She slid her wand up the sleeve of her dress hoping Andromeda would do the same, but she didn't. "I don't flirt with our sister."

"Don't you? I've heard rumors…"

"That's sick," said Bellatrix. "We're related."

"Half our family is related. That is to say, half our family married other people in our family to whom they were already related. It's sheer luck that we're not all walking around hunched over with extra noses and no ability to properly chew. That's what'll happen to you blood-obsessed types, you know. You can only intermarry for so many generations before hemophilia poisons your blood worse than mixing with Muggles ever could."

Bellatrix's smile dissipated. "I don't flirt with Narcissa."

"Only her husband?"

"I haven't fucked her husband in almost twenty years."

"I'm sure she's very appreciative of that."

"When I did, it was for a reason."

"Ah, well that makes it alright, eh? That said, would you mind not fucking mine? I can't think of any reason such a coupling would be appropriate."

Bellatrix glared at Andromeda. "I would not lie down with that Muggle filth even if the Dark Lord himself demanded it."

"Of course you would, darling sister. You would lie down with anyone if the Dark Lord demanded it: wizard, witch, mud-blood or Muggle. I know you would. Admit it."

By now, the tea had soaked well into the wooden kitchen table. Andromeda, no longer feeling the need to keep her wand trained on her sister, used it to clean up the mess and repair her broken tea cup. "This mess!"

"Sorry to have interrupted your afternoon," said Bellatrix sarcastically.

Andromeda waved her hand dismissively, checking to be sure it hadn't dripped onto the floor. "Tea?" she asked, summoning a second cup from the counter for Bellatrix. "It seems you intend to stay awhile."

"I suppose." With a sigh, Bellatrix sat across the table from Andromeda. She sipped the tea, added sugar, and sipped it again. "I need information from you," she said finally.

"Sorry, big sister. I'm not going to tell you where they're hiding. For one, I don't know, and even if I did, I wouldn't…"

"I don't give a damn where they are."

"Then why are you here? What information could I possibly have for you?"

Bellatrix didn't answer. She sipped her tea. Andromeda sipped hers. If anyone had peaked in the window, they would assume all was well – just two sisters enjoying the afternoon together. It would be clear, even to total strangers, that the two were related. Unlike Narcissa, with her pinker cheeks and (no-longer-naturally) blonde hair, Bellatrix and Andromeda had always looked alike at first glance, despite the latter's lighter hair. When they were little, they were sometimes even mistaken for twins, which Andromeda, being younger, loved, and Bellatrix, being almost as obsessed with her own individuality as she later was with Voldemort, hated.

"Do you remember when we were little girls?" asked Andromeda, twirling a strand of long brown hair around her finger. "Before Father died? Mother put us in matching dresses, all three of us, all the time."

"You loved that shit. You'd twirl around and fall over like a giraffe in a tutu and say, "'Wook, Bewwa! I'm just wike you! I wook just wike you!' You loved me, you little idiot, with your silly twirls and your speech impediment."

"I did love you and you loved me and we both loved Narcissa… Though to be honest, I loved her a bit less."

"Well, Narcissa was always so busy being in love with herself I highly doubt she noticed."

Andromeda laughed. If she could set aside the fact that her sister wanted nearly everyone in her immediate family dead, she could almost enjoy chatting with Bellatrix. They hadn't always been enemies. Until Bella's last year at Hogwarts, back when her interest in blood purity ran no deeper than that of any of their other relatives, and before Andromeda fell for Ted and started questioning all she'd been raised to believe, they'd actually been quite close.

"Narcissa tries to mother me on occasion but it doesn't suit her."

"She's not a good mother?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't know a good mother if I'd been born to and raised by one."

"I was under the impression she spoils him," said Andromeda. "Babies him, dotes on him, wouldn't let him attend Durmstrang because it's too far away."

Bellatrix raised both eyebrows in surprise. Andromeda shrugged.

"Even though I have no desire to interact with either of you, I hear things. I know things. For example, I know that you attacked my daughter and killed Sirius in the Department of Mysteries last year. How was that? Did it feel good, sending your own cousin through that veil?"

Bellatrix didn't take the bait, choosing instead to answer the 'good mother' question. "You're right that Narcissa didn't want Draco to go to Durmstrang because it was too far away. She also didn't want him to do a particular task for the Dark Lord because it might be dangerous. She doesn't only spoil him, she babies him. You should've seen what she got Severus Snape into last year in an attempt to protect him. If I had a son…"

"Thank heavens you don't…"

"I would be proud to see the Dark Lord put him to good use." Having caught her sister's interjection, she added "Bitch," before continuing her thought. "Not Cissy. She begged the Dark Lord to give the task to someone else – actually begged Him! As if she's worthy enough to ask anything of Him. Pathetic. But for all her affection, she still lacks… something. There's a decidedly un-maternal element to her. Did you know they had a servant breastfeed him from birth until age two? A poor girl, a squib. She lived with them and did everything from changing his nappies to waking with him in the middle of the night. I called her 'the human house-elf.' It was disgusting."

Andromeda continued twirling her hair, a habit their mother had tried to break her from since toddlerhood, to no avail. "They had nannies when he was in primary school, too. I would see them together once in awhile, the boy being carried around when he was old enough to walk, bought whatever he asked for. Draco, isn't it? He looks like his father."

Bellatrix laughed derisively. "Draco, yes. For all of her affection toward him, apparently she couldn't be bothered to care for him full-time. Last year Lucius said he wanted more children but Narcissa insisted she wasn't willing to go through 'all that' again. I asked her, 'all what? All the trouble of paying a dirty squib to let him suckle off her until he learns to eat solid food?' She said 'you're not a mother, you'll never understand.' She's right, I don't understand. What's the point in bringing home a little brat if you plan to pass him off for someone else to nurse and raise?"

Andromeda nodded, smiling slightly, giving into the catty part of her they'd all inherited from their mother. "Honestly, I'm shocked she even carried him inside her own body. Could she have outsourced that, she surely would have. You know we hadn't spoken in years when she was pregnant, but I did see her around Diagon Alley from time to time and I rather enjoyed knowing how fat she got. Merlin's beard, was she fat! And – this you wouldn't know because you were locked up – it took her a good five years to lose it all. I rather enjoyed that, too."

"Do you always?"

"Do I always what?"

"Get fat?"

"I'll have you know, I've never been fat a day in my life."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I mean pregnant women. Do pregnant women always get fat?"

"I gained exactly seventeen pounds when I was carrying Nymphadora and lost them all before she was six months old. I breastfed her myself. That takes the pounds off."

"But most women, they get fat?"

Andromeda sat back in her chair, studying her sister. "Why do you care?"

Bellatrix averted Andromeda's gaze. "I don't." She sipped her tea.

Andromeda's heavy-lidded eyes widened. "Merlin's beard."

"Stop it," Bellatrix snapped. "I hate that phrase and you use it all the time, you've always used it, even when you were a little girl, even though Mother hated it too."

"Merlin's beard, Merlin's beard!" Andromeda placed one hand dramatically over her chest, wickedly cheered by what she perceived as her sister's misfortune. "That's why you're here, Bellatrix Black Lestrange. You're pregnant."

"I'm not pregnant."

"You are pregnant! You're nearly fifty and you're pregnant."

"I'm hardly forty."

"Who do you think you're fooling? You're closer to fifty than forty." She clapped her hands together delightedly. "Merlin's beard, you even look pregnant. Your skin glows."

"It does not. Narcissa told me just this morning I look pale and sick."

"You're pale and sick because you're pregnant and you came to me for advice."

"Go to hell."

"Then why are you here?" Andromeda laughed, the cruel sort of laugh that made Bellatrix's skin crawl. Andromeda laughed just like Mother. "You're pregnant, Bella. I'm about to be a grandmother and my big sissy's pregnant!" Andromeda laughed harder, so hard she had to wipe away actual tears from her eyes. "Oh, it's beautiful!"

Bellatrix crossed her arms over her chest, pouting. "I've never liked you."

"Shut it, I know you used to, before Ted, before You-Know-Who. I know you liked me, you loved me, and now you've come to me, me, of all people, for advice because you're pregnant and you don't know what to do, or what to expect, and you think I can help you! That I'd be willing to help you! Oh! This is rich. So, who's the lucky man? Certainly not your mess of a husband, his family's inbred so far back I'd be surprised if he can get it up."

"He's not inbred."

"He's one of the Sacred 28, isn't he?"

The Sacred 28 was a name given to the 28 remaining families to be able to call themselves pure-blood as of the 1930s. The Blacks, Lestranges, Weasleys, Prewitts, and Malfoys had all made the list.

"Of course," said Bellatrix, disgusted at the notion he'd be anything but. "I wouldn't have married him if he were mixed, you know that."

"That means he's inbred. Is he the baby's father? I can't believe it. I always assumed your marriage was one of convenience or to enhance your image. Has it ever been consummated?"

Bellatrix took in a sharp breath, her teeth grinding as heat radiated from her hands. She was getting angry and struggling to control it.

"No," said Andromeda, who didn't need occlumency to read her older sister. "No, you've slept with him, but you're not pregnant by him. I'm certain of it. Oh, dear, it's not Lucius, is it? That could make Christmas and Easter rather awkward… Merlin's beard, is it Lucius? If so, can I be the one to tell Narcissa? I'd risk death to do it. It would be my pleasure."

"It's not Lucius. I told you, I haven't…

"Fucked him in years," finished Andromeda. "I know, I remember you said it, I just figured you're lying. So if not him, then…?"

"Fine, yes, you win. I'm pregnant, it's not my husband's, I want to know what to expect, and I can't tell anyone about it, alright? Not Rodolphus, not Narcissa… I need to keep it from everyone. Everyone. Including you."

"What are you going to do, pick my brain then obliviate me?" Andromeda laughed again. "You know I wouldn't let you. You'd have to kill me, darling, and honestly, I'm not sure you have it in you. Not considering what's in you! They change you, Bella. From the inside out. They make you weak. Emotional. They make you fat. A baby will turn you into a baby. What will your darling Dark Lord think of you now? Fat and emotional and weak? What use will you be to him? What reason would he have to keep you around? Poor dear, he won't even want you anymore. Nobody will. How's it feel, Bellatrix? How's it feel to be vulnerable? Afraid? How's it feel to know you might soon lose everything?" Andromeda was teasing her, taunting her the way Bellatrix had done to Neville in the Department of Mysteries. The irony was not lost on the Bellatrix, who bit her lip until she tasted the metallic bitterness of blood. She could kill Andromeda. She could kill her and walk away and never feel an ounce of remorse.

She could, but she wouldn't.

"Oh, Bella, Bella, Bella. Weak, frightened Bella. Whatever do you want from me?"

"I've cried, Meda."

That halted Andromeda's laughter. Not only had she never known her sister to cry, but it had been over twenty-five years since either of her sisters had used her childhood nickname, and that time, the last time, it was when they sat her down and tried in vain to convince her not to marry Ted Tonks.

"He's a Muggle! You cannot damage our family name in this manner! Call off this ridiculous childhood romance and move on. Find a suitable husband. Your attempts to rebel are made only to hurt Mother and while we'd all like to make her pay for certain past actions, this is not the way. End it!" Bellatrix had demanded, certain "Muggle-loving" was a phase.

Narcissa had a different approach. "Please, Andromeda. If you marry him, Mother will cut you off forever. You won't be a Black anymore. You won't be our sister. We've been together our whole lives, your blood is our blood, and that blood is pure! Please, for all that it means to be a Black, please, don't marry him! Don't we matter to you at all?"

"I'm marrying him," Andromeda had said. "He's asked and I've said yes."

"You're making a mistake, Meda," Bellatrix had said. "You'll live to regret it."

"It will be no life if I live it without him," said Andromeda. "I love him. He loves me. If you can't love me knowing that I love him, than we have nothing further to say to each other."

So they didn't. Not for twenty-five years.

Not until today.


	3. WASTED

**CHAPTER THREE: WASTED**

They switched from tea to red wine.

"I'm sure a little won't hurt it," said Bellatrix, pouring herself an almost overflowing glass.

"That's enough," said Andromeda, taking back the bottle. "You shouldn't have filled it more than halfway. Are you trying to give that baby brain damage?"

Bellatrix flashed a smile. "Red wine's good for the heart."

"Oh?" said Andromeda. "I wasn't aware that you had one."

"I told you I cried!" Bellatrix scowled, but whether she was more annoyed by her sister's quip or her own recent tears even she wasn't certain. "I've cried several times over the last few weeks, but especially over the last few days. Over stupid things. I get this guilty feeling over…" Neville Longbottom's baby face flashed in her mind, "Over stupid things I've never felt any guilt over. Things I've never needed to feel any guilt over. I didn't even know guilt was… was…"

"You didn't think you had enough of a conscious to feel remorse?"

"I know who and what I am and have no need to feel guilty for that!" She tossed her head back arrogantly. "Why must you be such a bitch?"

"I'm a bitch? A year ago you murdered our cousin and tried to off my only daughter. Why are you here? I mean, I get that you're pregnant, but so what? Why come to me?"

Bellatrix chewed her lip, shifting awkwardly in her chair, before answering.

"I'm not myself, Andromeda. I'm falling apart. I'm weak. I'm… I'm Narcissa. Remember how much she cried as a child?"

"Over damn near everything," said Andromeda. She only had the one clean wine glass (she'd been drinking a bit more than usual since her husband went on the run, not that she wasn't bordering on an alcohol problem before) so she was swigging directly from the bottle. "Yeah, I remember. Whenever Mother raised her voice, even if her anger was directed at one of us, Narcissa cried."

"Whenever Stepfather…"

"Don't," said Andromeda, holding up her hand. "Don't talk about him."

"Well, Narcissa was the only one who'd cry when he was through," said Bellatrix. She downed a long gulp of the wine. Andromeda sipped more from the bottle. They fell into an uncomfortable silence, which Andromeda eventually broke. "She still cries. All the time. Over anything and everything."

"I think he was worse to her than he was to us."

"Because she was weak," said Bellatrix. "That's why I'd take her place sometimes. She couldn't handle what we could. She wouldn't fight back if she were being bullied by a baby. I don't think she ever once used the word 'no.' But she didn't care, not really, not in the long term. Not like us. As long as he'd keep her in those fancy dresses with those lacy gloves and the shiny shoes, so she could be pretty, so everyone could tell her she was pretty, that's all she cared about. He'd dress her up and call her pretty and she'd smile like it was all alright. It's the same with her husband. He's a lech; I loathe him. But far as I know, she's never once confronted him. I think she secretly likes it when he's having his affairs because he buys her things, extravagant things, and tells her how beautiful she is, how lovely, how desirable, all the same things he says to the twenty-year-old girls he's bedding behind her back. He buys her jewelry, overlarge diamonds and gold trinkets, and she loves it. Fancy dresses made her forget as a child and expensive jewelry makes her forgive even now."

"I don't want to talk about this," said Andromeda. "You wanted to know what to expect, okay, I'll tell you. How far along are you? I'll give you what you came for and then you'll leave and we'll both pretend this never happened."

"I need more wine."

"You'll get pissed."

"I need it to loosen my tongue."

"A little more." Andromeda topped off Bellatrix's half-empty glass. "How far along are you?"

"July, I think, is when it happened, or maybe end of June, so… Two or three months? Eight or nine weeks? I haven't been to see anyone."

"How do your breasts feel?"

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"How do they feel?"

"I don't know. I'd have to ask the…" She took a sharp intake of breath, realizing she'd nearly said The Dark Lord. "The man I'm with," she finally finished. Andromeda snorted.

"I don't mean how do they feel to other people, you dolt. Are they tender? Does it hurt when you put on your bra?"

"Oh!" Bellatrix cupped her breasts with both hands and gave them a light squeeze. "No more so than usual, I suppose."

"Well, that's frequently the first sign. I've been pregnant four times, you know, and that was the earliest signal with each one."

This was news to Bellatrix. "Four times?"

Andromeda nodded. She took another long sip from the wine bottle, comforted by the familiar taste on her tongue and subtle tingling down her throat. "Metamorphs are exceptionally rare but by some magic I keep conceiving them. We must carry a recessive gene… or Ted does."

"I don't know what that means." Bellatrix sipped her wine too. "Recessive genes, sounds like Muggle babble." She could feel the liquor going to her head. She very rarely drank, as one of the very few things she feared was losing control. She drank the night she met Voldemort in that pub. While she often assured herself she would've gone upstairs with Him even if she'd been drinking nothing but butterbeer, she sometimes wondered if that were true… especially lately. He'd plied her with an awful lot of liquor that night. Did He assume she liked to drink? Or did He assume she'd need to be drunk in order to…? She didn't want to think about it. That was the sort of thought that crept into her mind during her thirteen years in Azkaban.

"Male metamorphs are far more uncommon than female, and females are very rare. Typically, women who become pregnant for metamorphs miscarry. The medi-witch told me she wasn't sure a male metamorph had been carried to term within the last century. Females are less likely to be conceived, but only fifty percent likely to die in utero. I lost three baby boys, all in my second trimester. We named them, but…" Andromeda looked away, her eyes misty. She hadn't spoken to anybody about her miscarriages except Ted, her medi-witch, and once, when she was twelve, her daughter, and she didn't have any intention of getting emotional over it now, especially considering her current company. Finally, she finished, "Nympadora is my miracle baby."

"That's… sad. I'm sorry." Bellatrix shook her head. Who was that apologizing to her sister? She hardly recognized her own voice. Dammit. The baby was making her emotional again. That had to be it. Dammit, dammit, dammit. She rubbed her temples and tried to think.

"My miracle baby and you tried to take her from me."

Bellatrix shook her head again, this time because she was trying to clear it. She wasn't going to be pulled into this, wasn't going to feel guilty about doing what needed to be done. It's not like it was her fault, what happened with Nympadora. The idiot girl made the choice to fight for Dumbledore against her own family. She didn't have to. Bellatrix could have taught her so much, the way she did Draco, but no. The little mixed-blood brat was hell-bent on further populating the Wizarding World with half-breeds and half-beasts. If anything, the fact that Bella had come close to killing Nymphadora was Andromeda's fault. She was, after all, the one who turned her back on her own blood, not Bellatrix.

"Bella?"

"What else can I expect? For the first few months?"

"If you're like Narcissa, you can expect to get fat. You're probably already experiencing morning sickness, though in my experience it is not confined to mornings. Everything made me feel sick. My senses were hyper-alert. Every taste, every smell was magnified, and most gave me the feeling I needed to vomit."

Bellatrix nodded. "That I'm familiar with."

"Ted loved my mood swings." Recognizing Bella's confusion, Andromeda chuckled. "That was sarcasm, genius. Remember sarcasm? You were once the queen of it."

"Bite me."

"There's my girl!"

"I'll Crucio you," said Bella, but she didn't draw her wand (not that she needed it; she could perform that curse in her sleep). "Don't think I won't."

"I'll risk it," said Andromeda. "Here, have a little more wine. Just a bit."

"You're trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me," Bellatrix accused, though she wasn't sure what possible advantage her sister would have once getting her drunk. Unless she planned to kill her.

"Take advantage? That's what Lucius would do. I'm not Lucius. Remember him? Your sister's husband? That man you claim you haven't fucked him in almost twenty years?"

Bellatrix sneered. "You always were a bit of a cunt."

"Tsk, tsk, sister. Language. Tell me, did she ever find out? About your affair?"

"It was hardly an affair. One satisfaction-lacking shag in a dark alleyway."

"Satisfaction-lacking for whom? He couldn't finish?"

Bellatrix didn't particularly enjoy her recollection of that encounter, but she laughed all the same. "No, he finished." She ran her fingers through her thick black hair, debating whether she should tell Andromeda why it had happened. It was an assignment given to her by the Dark Lord himself, who wanted to test the loyalty of his then right-hand man, who, after the incident, took a backseat to newcomers Severus Snape, Barty Crouch, Jr., and even their cousin Regulus Black.

There wasn't anywhere safe for them to go, and besides, spending time looking for a location might've let Lucius rethink what he was going to do. When she offered herself to him, it was 1978, she was 27 years old, they were in the middle of the first Voldemort war, and he'd been married to her baby sister for six years. The Malfoys were in the process of trying to become pregnant but like most of the women on the lower branches of the Black family tree, Narcissa was struggling to conceive. Bellatrix didn't particularly want to do it – not only because of her sense of loyalty to her baby sister, but because she personally found Lucius nauseating – but she was confident that her Master had His reasons. In any case, no one should have known about it. No one should have seen them. What was Andromeda even doing skulking about the seedy underbelly of the Wizarding World, especially so late in the evening?

Lucius was there to see a man about buying forbidden objects, in particular a version of Veritaserum that had been altered to kill the user post-interrogation, and a golden cup with two finely-wrought handles adorned with a few jewels, marked on one side with the image of a badger. Bellatrix's job was to tail him without being seen, easy enough since the Dark Lord had worked with her extensively on a self-concealment charm, then approach him only after he had successfully obtained the potion and the cup.

All had gone according to plan. Lucius stepped into the alleyway to apparate back to Malfoy Manor, where he was beckoned to by his sister-in-law. She offered herself up to him right there at that moment and he accepted without question. He lifted her skirt, pushed her roughly against the stone wall, and forced himself roughly inside before she was ready. While he cupped her breast with one hand, squeezed her thigh with the other, and panted into her shoulder, she stared at a point beyond him and mentally removed herself from the situation, the way she did when she was a child and Stepfather's hands would…. wander. She wouldn't have noticed the tiny pink-haired girl chasing a ball into the alleyway had the klutz not tripped over her own feet and fallen flat on her face when trying to retrieve it. Behind her appeared a thin, dark-haired, heavy-lidded woman who scolded her for running off, picked her up, then looked, and made direct eye-contact with the sister she hadn't seen in nearly a decade. Fuck.

Andromeda smiled wickedly, holding her daughter in a way that prevented her from seeing the scene in the alley, and said only five words: "Tell Narcissa I said hello."

She hurried away, holding tightly to her daughter, who whined about losing her ball. It was the first and only time Bellatrix had ever seen the child. She ordered Lucius to finish up, which he did, apparently not at all bothered by what had transpired. That was when Bellatrix realized Narcissa knew. Not about the two of them, but in general, she knew about his infidelity. She knew and didn't care. Bellatrix cared. She wanted him dead. But the Dark Lord merely tortured him, not terribly harshly, then temporarily cast him from their inner circle.

The following night He entrusted Bellatrix with Helga Hufflepuff's cup.

"Only you are truly faithful to me, Bella," He'd said.

"Forever," she'd assured him.

And He'd taken her to His bed and made love to her and told her she belonged to Him, and for the first time she didn't argue about not belonging to anyone.

"What were you doing there, Andromeda?" asked Bellatrix. "With your child?"

"It was during my fourth pregnancy. I'd learned of a Potions Master capable of dark magic and thought – rather stupidly – that he might be able to give me something to help me hold onto the baby. I had Nymphadora with me because Ted was away for work. He never would have approved. But what were you doing there? With him? I mean, I figured out what you were doing, but if he's as loathsome as you say, why?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"No, I'm sure I wouldn't."

Bellatrix downed what was left of her wine. Andromeda added the slightest bit more to the glass before finishing off the bottle herself.

"I hate him too," said Andromeda. "Lucius. He got serious with Narcissa shortly before I ran off to marry Ted, do you remember? They started dating when she was a third year. She was too young for him. When he took her virginity she was practically still a baby. Remember? Remember the first time she brought him home to meet Mother?"

"I've blocked it out."

"1971. You were twenty, I was eighteen, she was sixteen."

"So?"

"He hit on me at Mother's house over summer holiday. Narcissa was upstairs. She was supposed to be getting ready but let's be honest, she was probably just staring at herself in the mirror. Mother was in the dining room, ordering around that old house elf. Malfoy and I were in the parlor. He called me beautiful, kissed my cheek and brushed his fingertips against my hip, but when I got upset he said I was overreacting, he was just being friendly, saying hello. I couldn't escape that life fast enough."

"He'd fuck anything that moves."

"Including you."

"Fuck you."

"I'm not interested, thanks, but I'd be he still is."

Bellatrix laughed, genuinely amused. "You've gotten wittier in your old age, sister. Not to mention brave. I could kill you without even reaching for my wand and yet you're perfectly comfortable making little quips at my expense?"

"I figure if you'd come here to kill me you'd have done it already. You're here for a reason, aren't you?"

The sisters stared at each other for a long, tense moment, during which Andromeda wondered what her life would be like if she'd never met Ted, if she'd be a pathetic Death Eater's wife like Narcissa or a heartless killer like Bellatrix. Bella, on the other hand, was thinking about all the hexes she'd love to practice on her philandering brother-in-law but couldn't, because doing so would most likely anger the Dark Lord. She sighed.

"I'm here because I keep crying, Meda. Over nothing. When will that end?"

"It won't. All through pregnancy, your emotions will be all over the place. I would be laughing one minute then crying the next, I'd get so angry over damn near anything then beg Ted not to hate me for yelling at him. I was certain he'd leave me for being insane. That was the worst when I was carrying Nymphadora. The other three, the boys, they didn't make me quite as crazy. I remember headaches too, terrible ones, and I don't know if this happens to everyone, but I started having strange dreams."

"Dreams?"

"Nightmares, really. Mostly about… about our childhood. About Mother."

"And Stepfather?"

"I told you, I don't want to talk about him. In any case, I'd wake up in the middle of the night coated in sweat; sometimes Ted would wake me up because I was thrashing or sobbing. The mood swings weren't pleasant, but those nightmares were the worst. I don't know if they happen to other women though, because I didn't have anyone to ask about it. It's not as if Mother would have invited me in for a heart-to-heart. But be prepared, in case it's hereditary."

Bellatrix gulped down the last of her glass of wine. Nightmares. She couldn't stand to have nightmares, especially not about that. Merlin's beard, would that ever make her look weak, especially in front of Rodolphus. Dammit, she'd just let the words 'Merlin's beard' creep into her inner monologue. She was losing it already. Eager to change the subject, she asked, "When do I gain weight?"

"Any minute now. Your clothes will start to feel tight but it won't show, not at first. Your breasts will get bigger too. Ted liked that, quite honestly, and I can't say I minded," she chuckled, momentarily enjoying the memory. "I didn't show in my midsection with Nymphadora until halfway through my sixth month, but I believe that's very late. The medi-witch was worried, since at that point I'd already lost two in the fifth month and I showed with both of them. The key to not looking like Cissy is to eat fruits, vegetables, and other healthy things instead of the cakes and pies you'll crave." Andromeda felt a pang. She missed her husband. She missed her daughter. And she couldn't remember the last time she'd called their baby sister Cissy. It hurt.

It was entirely surreal, sitting at her kitchen table, knowing her husband was on the run from Snatchers and Death Eaters, knowing Voldemort had infiltrated the Ministry, wondering whether her daughter, unborn grandbaby, and son-in-law would be killed any day, while sharing an entire bottle of red wine with the pregnant older sister she hadn't seen in over eighteen years or conversed with in twenty-five, a woman who was a Death Eater in Voldemort's inner circle, a woman who boasted about her loyalty to Him even after His fall, even though it meant being sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban. Andromeda took in a deep breath, let it out slowly, and figured she might as well get on with it.

"In your last trimester, you won't be much good at anything. You'll feel as if your brain is broken. You'll forget things, stupid things. Oh, and you might feel in increased need for… physical connection, which will be semi-negated by how unattractive you'll feel. The baby grows fast during those last three months. You'll be able to feel it inside you, moving and kicking. If I remember correctly, around the middle of the eighth month the baby will flip so its head is facing downward, preparing for birth. You'll be exhausted all the time. You'll experience cramps and pain."

"This sounds bloody awful," said Bellatrix weakly. "All that trouble for a baby. I don't even like babies. What in the hell have I gotten myself into?"

"No one says you have to have it," said Andromeda. "There are ways."

"I'm aware." About this, she offered no details. "Terminating it is not an option."

"In that case, be aware that you'll also have heartburn, varicose veins, false contractions, back pain, and stretch marks. You'll be clumsier that usual, your breasts might leak, the crazy dreams – or in my case, vivid nightmares – will get worse, and you'll probably pee when you don't intend to. Be sure to avoid laughing, crying, or coughing. Now let's discuss the birth!" Andromeda was starting to enjoy this. With every symptom she listed, her older sister looked a little more frightened. It was a nice change. "For starters, giving birth makes the Cruciatus curse feel like a pleasant massage. In other words, it fucking hurts."

Wine and tea swirled in Bella's stomach as all that she just heard swirled around in her brain. "Stop. I think I'm going to be sick. Right now."

"This way." Andromeda stood to lead her sister to the bathroom. She was surprised when Bellatrix stumbled. "Merlin's beard, you're a lightweight."

"I'm dying," said Bellatrix, her voice shaking. She hiccoughed. Andromeda chuckled. She helped Bellatrix down the hall into the loo.

"If you're going to vomit, try not to get any of it on my damn floor."

And just like Narcissa had that morning, Andromeda held Bellatrix's hair and rubbed her back while she threw up and dry-heaved, because that's what sisters do.

When Bellatrix was done she wiped her watery eyes with tissue, struggling to keep composed. Her abdomen was sore. Getting sick so frequently was its own abs workout. She whimpered.

"Oh, stop it. You'll live," said Andromeda dismissively. "Women have been getting pregnant and giving birth since the dawn of time. You're no different."

Bellatrix reclined until her back was flush against her sister's chest. They were both seated cross-legged on the cold tile floor. Andromeda propped herself up against the tub, keeping a firm arm around her sister's waist to keep her from slumping over.

"But I'm alone," whined Bellatrix, her voice sounding smaller than Andromeda had ever heard it. "You're all I have, Andromeda."

Andromeda rolled her eyes. "Surely the baby's father can help you with it."

"No," whispered Bellatrix. Again she wiped her eyes, this time with her sleeve. She held her head in her hands in a futile attempt to stop the room from spinning. Even more softly, she added, "It's His. The baby, Meda. It's His."

"Whose?" asked Andromeda, smoothing her sister's hair, fully expecting to hear the words "Lucius Malfoy" come out of Bellatrix's mouth. "Whose is it, Bella?"

"His," Bellatrix said again, more vehemently this time. "The Dark Lord's."


	4. MEMORY

**CHAPTER FOUR: MEMORY**

Now Andromeda felt sick.

It wasn't the wine. She could drink an entire bottle by herself and not lose her ability to function. She could drink more than one, actually. She had been a high-functioning alcoholic for a very long time, though the words "high-functioning" didn't seem as accurate since her husband went into hiding.

No, she was a different kind of sick.

Her estranged sister, her sadistic, estranged sister, was pregnant.

Pregnant by Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

And only Andromeda Tonks knew about it.

Shortly after Bellatrix's revelation, she passed out. Andromeda cleaned her up, levitated her to the couch in the living room, covered her with a blanket, and placed a glass of water and a bottle of hangover tonic beside her on the table.

Then she began to panic.

In her home was one of the most wanted dark witches ever to exist. The right hand woman of the darkest wizard since Grindelwald, possibly the darkest ever, depending upon who you asked. Her sister wasn't only his right hand witch, she was his mistress, the mistress of that monster. The thought made Andromeda's skin crawl.

He-Who-Must-No-Be-Named's pregnant mistress was passed out drunk on blood-traitor Andromeda's couch.

She should contact Nympadora. She had the means. She could get a message to her. But what good would it do? As an Auror, Tonks would have the power to arrest her aunt, but with Death Eaters in control of the Ministry, what would be the point?

Besides, didn't she have to uphold some semblance of loyalty toward her sister? Estranged or not, on different sides or the same, did it matter? They were sisters. They'd been through so much…

No. Bellatrix and Narcissa had made it quite clear when Andromeda chose to marry Ted: they were not sisters anymore. Furthermore, Bellatrix had made it clear when she killed their cousin and tried to kill Andromeda's own daughter that she only cared about blood in terms of purity, not in terms of commonality.

Yet, here was Bellatrix, having come to her, of all people, after all these years. Why?

Andromeda settled into an armchair to watch Bellatrix sleep. She used to watch her sleep when they were children too. She never understood how Bellatrix could sleep. After he'd leave their room… their stepfather… after he'd leave their room to return to their mother's bed, Narcissa would cry. Bellatrix hated it when Narcissa would cry. She used to slap her and call her a baby and threaten to hurt her worse if she didn't shut up. Bellatrix couldn't stand the sound of crying. But Narcissa would cling to her and beg her not to go and Bella would inevitably end up holding Narcissa until she fell asleep, then tucking her in and kissing her forehead before crawling into her own bed.

Bella hated it when she'd realize Andromeda was watching this scene. She would rather people – even her own sisters – see her behaving cruelly, bullying other students at Hogwarts, torturing small animals simply to test out new dark curses she was developing, acting superior even toward her professors and those to whom she was supposed to show respect, than to see her in a moment of tenderness or being protective toward her youngest sister.

As they got older, those moments of tenderness and protectiveness faded away. Andromeda learned to stop expecting them, but as the baby, Narcissa never seemed to. Bella would tell Cissy to get over it, to stop her carrying on like a baby, that she deserved it for being the way she was – spoiled, self-absorbed, a little bitch.

What always confused Andromeda the most, though, wasn't the moments of cruelty or the moments of sweetness but the way Bellatrix could crawl back into bed after he left, close her eyes, and fall asleep. Her breathing would slow to deep and even within minutes, she'd even snore sometimes, while Andromeda lay awake for hours, terrified of what might happen if she shut her eyes, tormented by twisted mental images when she tried.

The nightmares didn't start when Andromeda got pregnant, they started when she was a child. They merely returned when she got pregnant.

So perhaps that wouldn't happen to Bellatrix at all. Perhaps she'd go right on sleeping peacefully as she always had. She looked to be sleeping peacefully now.

She wasn't, though. Not really. Inside her mind, Bellatrix was trapped in a dream, a conflation of overlapping memories, in which a man was holding her down, touching her, kissing her. One moment it was the Dark Lord and she felt content, but in the next, it was Stepfather, and then the image swirled, and she was being felt up by Lucius in the parlor the way Andromeda described.

Two days after Lord Voldemort tortured Lucius for fucking Bellatrix in that alley despite His express order to His Death Eaters that she was off-limits (He claimed He did this in order to test a few loyalties) Lucius cornered Bellatrix at Malfoy Manor after a meeting. The Dark Lord had apparated out only seconds before. Bellatrix was on her way to the kitchen to say goodbye to Narcissa when he grabbed her arm in the hall. Most of the others in the inner circle had dispersed, including her husband and his brother. He pinned her roughly against the wall, her arm twisted painfully behind her.

"I want you."

"Get off me."

"It was too quick the other night. I didn't even get to taste you."

"He'll torture you again."

"It's worth it."

"Andromeda knows. What if she tells Narcissa?"

"Who would believe Andromeda?" He pressed closer so their bodies were flush against each other, his long blond hair hanging in her face. "I can't stop thinking about you." His lips traveled to her neck. "I need you. I need to be inside you."

"You're being ridiculous," she said haughtily, attempting to push him away. If only she could reach her wand. Voldemort was working with her on various spells with wandless magic, but she didn't know any that would be subtle enough to get him away from her without possibly causing him irreparable harm, which, while personally satisfying, would not be prudent as it would surely mean others would find out about this.

"I'll have you again," he murmured against her collarbone.

"You're married to my sister."

"She won't mind. She likes for me to be happy. Perhaps I could even take you at the same time."

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "She and I? At the same time? She's my sister."

"I know." He grinded against her. She could feel the length of him rubbing uncomfortably against her lower abdomen. "You wouldn't have to do much together…"

"Get off of me."

"Or anything together…"

She struggled against his hold. "Sod off."

"Is there someone else?" Now he sounded hurt, which was absurd.

"Yes," she said, "My darling husband."

Lucius laughed. His lips returned to her neck. "Rodolphus?" he whispered an inch from her ear. "He's hardly 'someone else.' I love my wife, Bella, but I desire you."

"Don't call me Bella."

"I'm going to have you again. I'll have you together if you're willing. If you're not, alone is fine."

Again she tried unsuccessfully to push him away. "I'm not."

"Alone it is."

"I'm not willing to be with you."

"That's fine. I don't need your permission, only your body."

She kneed him, aiming for his groin, but missed. He grinded flush against her, laughing.

"You're no match for me."

Fury radiated from Bellatrix. "You overestimate your abilities, Malfoy." The floor went hot beneath their feet. She knew he could feel it. She was damn close to losing control. Her wand hand, still pinned behind her back, twitched. She would give him a final chance to release her before putting him at the receiving end of at least one Unforgivable.

"When the Dark Lord learns of this…"

"Learns of what?" echoed an icy voice down the dark corridor. "Learns that Lucius Malfoy is again disobeying one a direct order?"

Lucius gulped, backing away from Bellatrix, his hands up, palms out, as if in surrender. She rubbed her sore forearm, glaring at Lucius, terrified her Master would think she had somehow welcomed this, afraid He'd punish her, torture her, or worse – be disappointed in her.

"My Lord!" Lucius was whiter than usual. "I… you see… there's been a… misunderstanding…"

"Bellatrix told me that some of my Death Eaters had been harassing her, which is why I gave the order to stay away. You seem to think this does not include you, is that right?"

"No! I… In… in the alleyway… the other day… She set me up!"

"Now I find you accosting her after the conclusion of our meeting?"

Bellatrix stood up straighter, even puffed her chest out a bit. The Dark Lord wasn't angry at her. He knew where her loyalties lay.

"I will deal with you tomorrow, Lucius. You can expect me." Voldemort held out his hand to Bella. She took it. "For now, I have an assignment for you. Come."

"Yes, Master," she whispered.

They disapparated.

An hour later, in His bed, satiated, He asked her how Lucius' advances had started. She told him everything.

"He wants to see you with your sister?" Voldemort's face broke into a wicked smile. "I would not mind seeing your sister. She is… lovely."

Bella's face flushed. "You desire my sister, my Lord?"

He laughed, an icy laugh. "Look at you. You're jealous."

"I'm not."

"You're lying. You dare lie to your Master?"

Her breath hitched in her throat and she winced, expecting punishment, but to her surprise He pulled her closer, so her head was resting on His chest and His hand was resting on her lower back. Her shoulders relaxed. He was amused, not angry. "She is beautiful. That blonde hair, those blue eyes, the curve of her hip… Yes, I could enjoy her. With or without you present."

Bellatrix bit her lip. His long finger traveled up her spin, making her shiver. She couldn't stand to think about it, the Dark Lord with Narcissa. Nothing could be worse. His fingers traveled back up, coming to rest on the back of her neck under her hair. She struggled to breathe.

"Bella, would you be hurt if I wanted your sister?"

He was teasing her, surely. He couldn't possibly be serious. Still, she couldn't bring herself to answer.

"I don't mind the thought of you with another woman," He said after a pause that was far too long. "But not Narcissa. I doubt she's any good in bed. If she were, her husband would not spend half his days chasing other women."

Now Bellatrix felt truly conflicted. On the one hand, she was relieved that the Dark Lord did not, in fact, desire Narcissa, but on the other, she felt the fierce urge to defend her, to protect her, like she did when they were children. "With all due respect, my Lord, I don't think my sister is the problem. Some men… some men just can't control their desire to force themselves on any woman they can. Those men are weak."

"You're thinking of him," said Voldemort. He kissed her forehead. "But I saved you, didn't I? I put a stop to that the moment I knew."

"You did." She kissed his chest and snuggled closer, prompting him to tighten his arm around her. "Narcissa should be grateful too. Once Andromeda were out on our own, she'd be the only one there…"

"You are the most loyal to me, Bellatrix Black," said Voldemort, rolling them over so He was on top of her. Her heart fluttered. She loved when He called her by her full name (minus her marriage-given addition). He parted her legs with his knee. She arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest, eager to give herself to Him. Though she knew He didn't – or couldn't – return her love, it was enough that He wanted her. It had to be. It was the best she would get.

"I could bring you a woman," He murmured. "A Muggle. We could find one together. I wouldn't touch her myself – you wouldn't like that, nor would I – but I could watch as you do to her what my Death Eaters have done to so many."

"You wish to watch me rape a woman?" asked Bellatrix. She could feel His hardness rubbing against her thigh. Clearly this notion excited him.

"Rape is such a harsh word, Bella. I want to watch you… experiment… with her. I'll bind her wrists to make it easier for you. You can start by kissing her. Move down to her breasts. Take one in your mouth…" As he spoke, he moved south, planting his lips along her neck and upper chest. He flicked his tongue over her nipple and she gasped.

"Keep going," He said, sliding his hand between her legs. "Do to her what you'd like me to do to you. You would do that for me, wouldn't you Bella?" His mouth closed over her nipple as he began to suck. His fingers moved faster between her legs. Again she gasped, then cried out:

"Anything, my Lord, anything! I would do anything for you."

"You would kiss her for me?" He asked, repositioning so the tip of Him was against her entrance.

"Yes, my Lord."

His teeth nipped at her neck. She felt as though her veins were filled with lava. Her skin tingled and burned.

"You would fuck her for me?"

"Yes, my Lord, yes." She struggled to get closer. She desperately wanted Him inside her, ut He made her wait – the one torture she could not abide. He squeezed her thigh.

"You would kill her for me?"

"Yes, my Lord, I would. I would kill anyone for you."

He grinned, kissed her soundly on the mouth, then pushed into her.

"Good, Bella. That's precisely what I wanted to hear."

It was only two weeks later they raided a Muggle party, tortured and stole from those in attendance, and kidnapped one beautiful young girl, perhaps 20 years of age, to bring back to His hideaway. He tested Bellatrix on all three counts and she willingly obliged.

It was her first human kill.

Certainly not her last.

In her unconscious mind, the memory of being in bed with her Master faded, replaced again by one from childhood. She was at home on Christmast break. She hadn't wanted to be. She'd begged Mother to let her remain at Hogwarts over the holiday. It was her first year and to say she loved it would be a gross understatement. She shared a dormitory with four other girls, three of whom she had no use for. Sure, they were Slytherins, but she suspected they were sorted solely on the basis of their blood, whereas she was developing the additional quality of bloodlust.

One of the girls, Zillah Rosier, was a first cousin of the Black sisters, the daughter of their mother's brother. They'd known each other growing up, though not well. Zillah was staying over Christmas break. They would've been the only two girls in their year.

But Mother said no.

"Your sisters want to see you," she written. "Stepfather and I do, too."

"I'll bet he does," said Bellatrix, crumpling up the letter. Now it was her first night home, well after midnight, when she heard the door to their bedroom creak open.

"No," she whispered to the darkness. "Not tonight."

"I've missed you," he whispered, careful not to wake the younger girls. "Did you miss me?"

Six years later, nearly Christmastime, during the last Hogsmeade trip of the term, Bellatrix had again met up with the man who would soon out himself to the Wizarding World as the Dark Lord. She told him she didn't want to return home for the holiday and she told him why. He was furious. He ranted about it, promised to end it, but though she felt protected for the first time since Mother married him a decade earlier, it appeared His issue wasn't in her abuse, but in that fact that she was His, she belonged to Him, and He did not like to share.

Still, He promised she, being of age, could spend the holiday with him. Three days later, as she packed her trunk after her last end-of-term exam, she received a letter from Mother.

Stepfather was dead. It appeared he'd been robbed and stabbed by a mysterious Muggle while making his way to the pub that opened into Diagon Alley with Andromeda, who'd been planning to do her holiday shopping there. The only witness, Andromeda, was unable to give any identifying details about the Muggle robber except that He told Stepfather just prior to the stabbing, "This is the fate deserved by your kind." The crime was deemed an act of anti-Wizard violence that even got mentioned in the Daily Prophet.

Her mother was heartbroken.

"Why don't you stay at Hogwarts?" she'd written. "It won't be much like Christmas here. No need to come home."

Bellatrix wouldn't come home, but she wouldn't remain at Hogwarts either. Apologies to Zillah Rosier.

Her memories swirled again, this time to the first time. She was seven. He'd been married to Mother for four months. Father had been dead for only six.

On the couch in Andromeda's home, she tossed and turned, lost in the pain of that first time, the night Mother was sick and wanted to go to bed early. The night he offered to tuck the girls in.

Andromeda sipped tea as she watched her sister squirm restlessly, but still out cold. Should she try to wake her? Should she summon Nymphadora? Her wand hand twitched. It would only take two words. Two words to end the most immediate threat to her family. Two words she'd never uttered, never thought she would.

Only two words.

Could she do it?


	5. GOODBYE

**CHAPTER FIVE: GOODBYE**

After their falling out, Andromeda missed her sisters.

She had never quite bought into the notion of blood purity as intensely their Mother, Father, Stepfather, and other relatives had, the way Bellatrix and Narcissa had, but as a child she supposed she believed in the importance of it.

Narcissa seemed generally unconcerned by matters of Muggle mixing. She was too self-absorbed to give much thought to why they looked down on Mudbloods and never considered the possibility of challenging the status quo, primarily because it might sully her image.

Bellatrix, meanwhile, was completely caught up in being a member of one of the Sacred 28, a group of Wizarding families who, as of the 1930s, still had pure bloodlines. It made her feel special, like she was better than others, as if belonging to one of the remaining pure families made her Wizarding royalty.

As they got older, being included in the Sacred 28 made Andromeda feel stupid. How could these witches and wizards not see the dangers of cousins marrying cousins for generation after generation? If you went back far enough, all old Wizarding families were related. The Blacks were related to the Prewitts. Molly Weasley's maiden name was Prewitt, which meant that she and husband Arthur Weasley were probably distant cousins. The Malfoys were also related to the Blacks somewhere too, through the Rosiers, and they were all related to the Crabbes too. And on and on and on as illustrated via the tapestry permanently stuck in Aunt Walburga's home. Aunt Walburga was, of course, the older sister of Cygnus Black, father of the three sisters.

Quite frankly, it disgusted Andromeda, all of that intermarriage, so when she fell for Ted Tonks and discovered he was a Muggle-born wizard she was almost relieved.

They technically met in her first year, when he was a third year, but only she remembered it. He bumped into her in the hall, apologized, asked if she was okay, then, when she didn't answer, he apologized again and kept going as if the world hadn't come crashing down around their feet. She stared after him, mouth open, gobsmacked by her first love-at-first-sight crush. They were in different years and different houses (her: Slytherin, him: Hufflepuff) so they had no real reason to interact again for several years, until a chance meeting at Hogsmeade. She was a fifth year; he was in seventh. Again, they walked into each other. This time he didn't hurry away. He helped her up, smiled, and asked her name.

This time, she managed to remember how to form words with her mouth and therefore make conversation.

They spent that entire afternoon together. First they hit up Honeydukes, where he bought her a chocolate frog ("Merlin's beard!" exclaimed Andromeda when she saw her chocolate frog card. It was Merlin. Beard and all. "I haven't got any of him!"). Afterward they went to the Three Broomsticks to warm up over butterbeer. They looked like a rather unlikely pair, which earned them stares from many of their fellow students, especially when Ted, noticing the way they were watching, took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. That was it – she swooned. Her love-at-first-sight crush quickly grew into actual love, though she spent most of the next three years hiding it from her family and the other members of Slytherin house. She was only fifteen the year she fell for the man she knew she would eventually marry, and though it hadn't been easy – especially now, with him on the run and her drinking for two, times two, just about every night – she never regretted marrying him, not for a second. That was in 1968, nearly thirty years ago, and she would marry him all over again if she could.

1968 was also the year Bellatrix began seeing Him. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

On their first night back at Hogwarts, Bella made her way into Andromeda's room after lights out. She slipped into her bed, shook her awake, and asked if she could keep a secret.

"I've been dying to tell somebody since it happened last week but it wasn't safe to talk at home. Not with Mother and that man around."

That's what Bella had started calling Stepfather. "That man." Their mother hated it.

"What happened?" Andromeda was excited. Her older sister rarely shared secrets, preferring to keep her feelings to herself, presumably in an attempt to appear that she didn't have any.

"I met a man. Not a boy, Meda. A man. A grown man. He's handsome. Brilliant. I met him down that pub Mother can't stand down in Knockturn Alley, the night I was supposed to be with Zillah."

Bella slept over at cousin Zillah's place every year since second year, always a few days before the new school term started, during which time she'd pick up all of the Black sisters' books, robes, and other Hogwarts necessities. It was a privilege of being the eldest.

"We were drinking and talking. He thinks I have potential, Meda. He thinks I can really be someone. He says he knows I'm special. Different. Not like other girls. Or other women. Better."

Andromeda nodded, trying to ignore the feeling of foreboding creeping into the pit of her gut.

"He was explaining about blood purity, about how it's simple fact that some witches and wizards are better than others. Magic belongs to us, Meda. The only reason Mudbloods exist at all is because witches and wizards were stupid enough to breed with them in the past. When a random Muggle-born is named a wizard or witch, it's because that Muggle-born has stolen it from us. The only decent way to have magic is to be born with it, to be deserving, to be pure. To be dirty, mixed, like the Mudbloods, it happens, but in a way really they've stolen it too. Their non-magic parents mated with one of us to steal what we have, what makes us special. We've spent centuries denying what we have and what we are because of Muggle persecution and now, look at them, happy and eager to take what's ours. He says it doesn't need to be that way, Meda. He says we can take back what's rightfully ours, take back our rightful place, to stop hiding. Wouldn't that be beautiful?"

"I… I guess?"

"You guess! Andromeda, you had to hear Him, you had to be there. He was everything. I was captivated by His brilliance and He was captivated by me."

"Why?"

"Why?" Bella looked hurt. "Why? Because I'm brilliant too. I think the way He does. I understand him. We had a connection. I felt it. So when He asked me to spend the night…"

"He asked you to spend the night?!"

"Shhh!" Bellatrix pinched Andromeda hard on the upper arm. "Yes, He, well, I mean, He didn't put it quite like that, and I didn't spend the whole night…"

"What did you do?"

"Everything."

Andromeda tried to raise one eyebrow the way her sister always did. "Everything?"

"Everything, and so much more than everything. He wants to see me again. I'm going to meet Him during our first Hogsmeade trip, He promised to come find me. The way He made me feel… someday, you'll meet someone who gives you that same feeling, that feeling like an entire potions lab is exploding in your lower abdomen and burning its way up into your chest and causing tingling through your limbs and you won't be able to breathe or think straight and that man will kiss you and touch you and you'll never want him to stop."

Despite the couple of crushes she'd had on boys she'd never spoken to, including Ted Tonks, Andromeda could never imagine a situation in which a man would touch her and she wouldn't want him to stop. She was surprised Bellatrix could.

"You didn't tell him to stop?" she whispered. She was torn between the feeling she should be happy for her sister, since her sister was clearly so happy, and feeling afraid, because the way Bellatrix's manic eyes sparkled in the moonlight made her look a hungry wolf about to devour a bunny… and Andromeda didn't want to be the bunny. She tried to shift over so they weren't so close. Bellatrix reacted by slipping her arm around Andromeda's waist. Andromeda felt trapped. Bellatrix didn't seem to notice.

"I told Him I wanted it. I wanted Him. It hurt; I won't lie and pretend it didn't hurt. I even have bruises, I'd show you but if I light my wand your idiot roommates will wake up. I have bruises on my ribcage and along my thighs. He even bit me, I have bite marks. He drew blood! He pulled my hair, I never thought I'd want someone to pull my hair, I don't think I'll ever pull Cissy's again no matter how obnoxious she gets because I can't feel the same way about hair-pulling now that I know what I do. He pinned me down, once by my throat. I actually got scared, I saw stars because I couldn't breathe, but then He released me and kissed my neck and fucked me harder. It was thrilling. Look!"

Bellatrix pulled down the neck of her nightgown to reveal a scabbed-over cut surrounded by purple and green swollen flesh on her left breast. "This is a bite mark."

Andromeda shook her head. Bellatrix had always had an interest in pain, though she clearly preferred giving it to getting, but this was bizarre. He fucked her harder? He left bruises and bite marks? And she let him? She liked it? That didn't sound like her sister, the girl who considered herself too good for boys, who wouldn't even let them kiss her goodnight, never mind touch her, the girl who considered the occasional physical contact with members of the opposite sex a bargaining chip, not a source of pleasure.

"There are more but this is the best one. Isn't it beautiful?"

It wasn't beautiful to Andromeda, not at all. Bellatrix's laugh cut through the silence of the night. Beyond the curtains in another of the four-poster beds, one of Andromeda's roommates squirmed and coughed. Bellatrix lowered her voice.

"Don't look so worried, little sister. I wanted Him to! You'll understand when you're older. He's older. I'm not sure how old, thirty-five, maybe forty? He wants to see me again, that's what's important. I know it's only been a few days since we met and I know I've only seen Him once but Andromeda, I think He loves me. I know I love Him. I never knew I could feel this way."

Andromeda didn't think she could ever feel that way either.

It would be months before Ted Tonks kissed her. Though when he did, he gave her butterflies. When he kissed her, she didn't want him to stop… but he did. She made sure that he did. And even after they were married (they waited until they were married) he never bit her hard enough to draw blood. Never left bruises on her skin or pulled her hair or held her down.

No thanks.

On the couch, Bellatrix stirred. She was coming around. When she opened her eyes and saw Andromeda, she gasped. She sat up and went for her wand, which was no longer in her sleeve.

"What did you do with it?" she asked accusingly.

"It's there, on the table," said Andromeda offhandedly, as if her sister slept on her couch all the time. "Between the water and the hangover tonic. Feel free to drink either, neither, or both. Apparently, you are not as adept at the over-consumption of alcohol as I am."

"Did you do anything to me when I was asleep?" Bellatrix asked accusingly.

"Yes."

"You dared to…" She tried to stand but the room wasn't staying as still as it should have been. She wobbled on weak knees. Andromeda stifled a snicker.

"What do you think I did? Clearly you're not dead."

"Clearly. But you could have…"

Andromeda cut her off. "Merlin's beard, Bella. I moved you out here from my bathroom floor, cleaned the vomit off your chin and the front of your dress, found your wand, which had rolled under my couch, mixed up the hangover tonic, poured the water, then watched you sleep to be sure you didn't roll over and suffocate yourself. You're welcome."

For several seconds, Bellatrix glared at her. Then she exhaled slowly. "Thank you," she said, yet another phrase that sounded foreign on her tongue. "I have gotten all I came for. I will be going now. I would appreciate if no one were to find out about… this."

"When you say 'this,' do you mean our visit, our conversation, your pregnancy, or the identity of the father of your unborn baby?"

Bellatrix blanched. "I… who… what did I tell you?"

"You told me," said Andromeda simply. "I won't tell anyone. It's your secret. We all have them. You've never revealed any of mine so I see no need to reveal any of yours."

"I didn't tell Mother when I first learned about you and the Muggle-born."

"I didn't tell Narcissa you fucked her husband."

"I didn't tell Stepfather you put that poison in his bourbon."

"I didn't tell the Aurors it was your lover who eventually killed him."

Bellatrix avoided eye contact. "I don't call him my lover." This time she was successful in her attempt to stand. Andromeda rose from her chair as well. They faced off, neither confident they could trust the other.

"You're having his baby. What do you call him?"

"I… I don't know. It doesn't matter. Stepfather deserved to die."

"I concur. That's why I didn't tell."

Bellatrix picked up her wand, downed the tonic, and chased it with half the glass of water. She walked toward the door. It wouldn't be polite (or prudent) to apparate to Malfoy Manor from inside Andromeda's house.

"You knew?" she asked, turning back, her fingers barely touching the door handle. "You were the only witness, I know, but I had no idea you suspected it was Him. The Daily Prophet said it was a robbery. They called it Muggle-on-Wizard violence."

"I made that up," said Andromeda simply, shrugging. "He introduced himself as your savior, sent to avenge you for all you'd suffered at his hands. He made Stepfather beg for his life, kneeling in an alley, disarmed of his wand. Stepfather turned to me for help, but…" she paused and for a moment Bellatrix thought she wouldn't continue. "But I said there wasn't anything I could do. You and Narcissa were still at Hogwarts, but I'd been home for two weeks, remember?"

She remembered. That was the winter Andromeda had gotten sick and nearly died. She'd been sent home early to recover, Mother's orders, even though Dumbledore was adamant that he thought she'd be better off admitted to St. Mungos or staying in the hospital wing at school.

"I was tired, Bellatrix. I couldn't… I couldn't do it anymore. I knew what he was going to do. Your… your Dark Lord was going to use the Killing Curse, but I'd just bought the knife. I handed it to him. I said, 'Perhaps Stepfather was robbed by a Muggle.' I figured there would be less investigation that way."

"Andromeda…" a slow smile spread across Bellatrix's face. "You are a Slytherin."

"He deserved to die, like you said. Hey, Bella…?"

Bellatrix pulled her fingers back from the door to place her hand on her hip, still grinning. She wasn't sure she'd ever felt more connected to her sister. The Dark Lord had never described what he'd done to Stepfather. All he'd told her at the time was, "Now, you're truly mine." She was too happy at the time to question the story as it appeared in the Daily Prophet. "Yes, Meda?"

"Do you intend to kill my daughter?"

Bellatrix's smile disappeared, replaced by a look of uncertainty. She closed her heavy-lidded eyes and breathed slowly. Andromeda wondered if she was mentally counting to ten, the way they used to as kids.

"Bella?" Andromeda stepped closer, demanding an answer. Bellatrix nodded, seeing no reason to lie, not now, not considering she'd already gotten what she came for.

"If it comes down to her dying or me, it won't be me."

Now it was the younger Black sister's turn to close her eyes, which brimmed with tears. Her voice cracked as she asked, "You'd take pleasure in it though, wouldn't you? Killing my only daughter? The mother of my grandchild? My miracle baby?"

"Andromeda, let's not do this. You know I…"

"This is goodbye, then," Andromeda cut her off. "We'll never do this again."

"If ever you decide to join our cause, Meda, there's room for you."

"I won't."

Bellatrix sighed. "Then yes, this is goodbye."

"Hope you don't die in childbirth," said Andromeda.

"I've been through worse. Besides, if you and Narcissa can do it, I can do it. I'll do it better." Wand at the ready, Bellatrix stepped closer to her sister, so close they were almost touching. "I'm going to hug you. Only for a moment. Only because this damn baby has me so emotional."

"I'm going to let you," said Andromeda, also holding her wand out just in case. "Only because it's forever this time."

Bellatrix wrapped her arms around Andromeda, who paused only briefly before hugging her back. They stood that way for longer than either of them would have expected, neither one fully wanting to let go, despite all that had transpired between them.

"You need better charms and wards around your house, Mrs. Tonks. I got in far too easily. If I can do it, the Dark Lord can do it. Or worse, our brother-in-law."

"I'll work on it. Next time you know for sure he's screwing around on Narcissa, remind her she deserves better."

"I'll do that."

The two women who had, as children, looked so much alike they could pass for twins, stood and stared at each other, nothing left to say.

"You always were a bit of a cunt anyway." Smiling, Bellatrix swept dramatically out the front door. Andromeda watched through the window as she apparated.

"Goodbye," she whispered. She headed toward the kitchen. There was a second bottle of wine hidden up in the cupboard and she needed a drink.

Back at Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix was feeling better than she had in weeks. She knew what to expect, at least for the next few months. Mood swings. Food cravings. Possible nightmares. The need for a bigger bra. And a name. What kind of name could she give this baby, a baby whose parentage no one could ever know?

She wished she'd asked her sister that, not that Andromeda would've been able to give any acceptable answer.

"Where the hell have you been?" Rodolphus asked as she passed by him in the main hall.

"If it were any your business, you'd know!" she snapped, pushing past him, heading back up to her bedroom. Despite the fuzziness still resonating in her head as a result of the wine, her head was clear. She knew what to do.

She would summon the Dark Lord after dinner.

She had something to tell Him.


	6. INSUBORDINATION

**CHAPTER SIX: INSUBORDINATION**

"Auntie?"

Bellatrix opened her eyes… well, her eye. The one she could manage. Fuck, what happened? Her head pounded. Everything hurt. Why couldn't she open the other eye?

"Auntie? Are you awake?" Draco's voice sounded so small, the way it had when he was a baby, before she went to Azkaban. "Auntie" was one of his first words. "Auntie, can I come in?"

Bellatrix intended to say no, to tell her nephew to return later, but all that came out of her mouth was a hoarse growl. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Draco," she whispered. Not loud enough.

"Auntie Bella?" The doorknob turned. It occurred to her she could wave her hand and lock it, the way she usually did before bed, but when she tried to raise her arm she was overcome with pain and weakness and an unfamiliar sore feeling. She looked down with her one good eye. Bruises greeted her, speckled across her upper arm and right wrist, reminding her of the night before. Or was it two nights before? What day was it, anyway?

"It's Christmas morning." Draco let himself into the room, answering the question she hadn't asked out loud. "I came by yesterday, but Mum said you couldn't see me."

"Yesterday?" she whispered. She had no recollection of yesterday, Christmas Eve day.

"You were supposed to work with me on my Occlumency lessons," said Draco, shutting the bedroom door behind him. "And on throwing off the Imperius Curse. Remember?"

"I… remember." Why did it hurt to talk? She remembered Him grabbing her by the arms, forcing her up against the wall… forcing his way into her mind… but her throat? She didn't remember Him touching her throat. And her eye? She blinked. It hurt. Why?

"You look… you don't look… are you okay?" Draco hovered nervously by the end of the bed, afraid to come closer.

"Sit," said Bellatrix, indicating the space by her feet. She pulled herself into a sitting position, cross-legged, ignoring the pain in her lower body. What the hell happened?

"Do you need anything?"

"Why are you speaking to me as if I'm an invalid?" she sneered, but with her voice raspy and weak she knew her question hardly had the effect she'd desired, which was to scare him so he'd stop looking at her that way – like she was a wounded puppy.

"You angered You-Know-Who at the meeting the other day," explained Draco. "He asked to see you later. He… have you looked in a mirror?"

"No. Get me one."

Using his wand, Draco summoned a small, ornate hand mirror from the dresser, one that had belonged to his maternal grandmother. He handed it to his aunt.

It took all of her strength not to gasp upon taking in the sight of her face. The eye she couldn't open was swollen shut. There was a bruised oval from her eyebrow to her cheekbone that looked so black when she touched it she half-expected it to come off on her fingers, like charcoal. Beyond the black was a ring of deep purple, and surrounding that, blotches of red.

She also had swelling above her lip, which appeared to have been bleeding recently, though she supposed the blood crusted there could have come from her nose.

She tilted the mirror above her to see down. Now she knew why it was difficult to speak. She had raised purplish marks in the front around the sides of her neck. Clearly He'd choked her. He had done this before – during sex – and a couple of times He'd left a mark, but never, NEVER like this. She placed her fingers gingerly against the bruising on the center of her throat and fought back a sick feeling swirling in her stomach. Her stomach! The baby. Was the baby…? She couldn't say anything, not to Draco, not to anyone, but suddenly terror gripped her. What had the Dark Lord done to her? Had his fury cost her their baby?

"Auntie?"

"I cannot help you with Occlumency today, Draco," she said. "Perhaps tomorrow."

"Okay," he said, averting her gaze. "Also, Father was wondering…"

But whatever Lucius was wondering, she didn't find out, because at that moment (without knocking!) the door opened again and in walked Narcissa.

"Oh, good, you're awake." She closed the door behind her. "Did Draco ask you what you want to eat?"

"Eat?" Bellatrix put the mirror down beside her on the bed, her other hand not leaving her throat. "I can't eat."

"You must," said Narcissa. "Draco, leave us."

He nodded, jumping up from the bed, seemingly relieved. When he was gone, Narcissa used her wand to lock the door.

"This is your punishment for insubordination?" asked Narcissa, settling into the spot her son had just vacated. "For a moment of impertinence He beat you to within an inch of your life?"

"You wouldn't understand," said Bellatrix, haughtily.

"You're right," said Narcissa. "I understand why we're on the side we're on, but I don't understand why you worship Him, why you willingly give yourself to him, why you…"

"Rodolphus left me."

"What?"

"Yesterday. I remember now. When Draco woke me, I was confused, but it's coming back." Bellatrix rubbed her temples. Damn it. Not only had she endured public humiliation when the Dark Lord threw her out of their meeting, but then He'd made her pay for it repeatedly later that night, and the next day she was dumped by her lousy husband.

"Why… why did he leave you? What did he… say? I… Lucius told me Rodolphus decided to bunk in with Rabastan, but I assumed… with you in your condition… I thought…"

"You assumed he simply didn't want to be around me on account of I'm broken?"

Narcissa's eyes widened. "No! No, Bella, that's not what I…"

"I'm pregnant."

"I… you're what?"

Bellatrix hugged her knees to her chest. Fuck. Everything hurt. Including… there.

"I need to be alone, Cissy."

"Bella, please, if you need me…"

"I don't need anyone, Narcissa."

Narcissa's face flushed. She knew she'd said the wrong thing. If there was one thing her sister truly feared (beside disappointing the Dark Lord) it was demonstrating weakness.

"I'm here," she said softly, rising from the bed. "I'll return later."

Bellatrix did not respond. As soon as the door was closed, she wandlessly charmed it locked. She now vividly remembered the Death Eaters meeting two days before, the day before Christmas Eve. It was shortly after lunch. The Dark Lord was planning something to trap Harry Potter and his rotten friends, the blood-traitor and that muggle girl, should they attempt to contact crazy Lovegood at his home, as the Dark Lord suspected he might. They were already holding Luna Lovegood, the Quibbler editor's only daughter, in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix closed her good eye, trying to remember what He'd said, what she'd been responding to, what had made Him so angry, but it wouldn't come to her. Dammit. All she could remember was His reaction. He sat back, slightly bemused, and regarded her slowly, His eyes traveling down her body and back up again in a way that made her shiver.

"You dare to question me and my methods, Mrs. Lestrange?" He asked in his usual quiet hiss. Her intestines twisted. He never called her Mrs. Lestrange, not ever, save for the occasional moment in bed in jest, which she understood He did simply to remind her that she was a Missus in name only, because – as he often reminded her – she belonged to him.

"Sir," she'd said, ready to apologize and beg forgiveness, but He waved a hand dismissively.

"Go on," He said. "Out."

"On? Out?"

"You are dismissed."

"Dis… dismissed?"

"From the meeting."

She glanced around the table at her fellow Death Eaters, trying to hide her panic. "Dismissed? For how long?"

"Out."

"Out?"

"Have you lost your ability to comprehend what is being said to you? Rodolphus, escort your wife from the room. Her presence is no long required here."

Rodolphus hopped up from his chair, overly eager to comply, perhaps to make it clear to everyone that he showed no favoritism to his own wife. He grabbed her by the elbow, lifted her from her chair, and hurried her toward the door.

"My Lord?" she said, unwilling to be cast out, desperate to be punished so she could be forgiven.

"Goodbye," He said.

Rodolphus pushed her out and shut the heavy drawing room door behind her. She leaned against it, fighting angry tears. How dare He cast her out! How dare He embarrass her in front of everyone! How dare He treat her this way, when she was doing nothing more or less than trying to help Him! Furious, she stalked off to her room, shooting an undeserved dirty look at a bewildered Draco when they passed each other in the hall.

Back in her bedroom, she paced back and forth, positively fuming.

Hours later He summoned her alone to His chambers. Setting aside her anger, she entered prepared to beg forgiveness, as she should have at the meeting. He would have none of it.

Grabbing her by the upper arms, He forced her against the wall so roughly her head banged back into it.

"Shit," she swore. He showed no mercy."

"Who do you think you are, Bellatrix Lestrange, to question me in front of my Death Eaters? Who do you think you are to question me at all? You think because of this –" his eyes darted down to her midsection, which had begun to expand rather rapidly in the last several weeks to make room for the baby she was carrying – "You are entitled to special privileges?"

"No, my Lord..."

"Correct." He removed his right hand from her left upper arm but relief was brief. His fingers tangled themselves in her thick, wild hair, as He pulled her head back so she was staring straight up at the ceiling.

"My Lord…" She tried to plead for mercy, but He was having none of it.

"You think your condition earns you special privileges, do you? You think you are safe from my wrath? You think you can…"

"No, my Lord," she began, but He pulled her hair harder.

"You think you can interrupt me? Have you forgotten who you're speaking to?"

Bellatrix took in a sharp breath. No, she hadn't forgotten. She hadn't forgotten – had He? Had He forgotten who she was? His most loyal servant? The woman who'd made herself available to Him in any way – in every way! – since she was seventeen years old? That woman He'd chosen to co-create and carry His heir? She clenched her teeth.

"Well? Answer me," He hissed, releasing her hair so they could make eye contact. "Have you forgotten who you're speaking to?"

"I believe you mean to ask, 'have you forgotten to whom you are speaking,'" she answered, aware that those might be her very last words.

But to her surprise, after a moment's pause, the Dark Lord laughed.

"Oh, Bella," he said, not releasing her right arm, but loosening his grip. His slid His other hand around her waist to rest on her lower back. "Crazy Bella. Sometimes I wonder what's going on in that mind of yours…"

Without further indication of what He was about to do, the Dark Lord plunged into her mind, probing. Despite her proficiency at Occlumency (which He taught her over two decades before) she was caught off-guard, which, of course, meant the first thing He saw was the last thing she would want Him to see.

"You were with him?" the Dark Lord snarled. He shoved her against the wall and backed away.

"He's my husband," she said weakly, knowing that was hardly a sufficient response.

"When?"

"Last night."

"I gave you clear orders." His eyes flashed as He raised His wand. She shrunk back, terrified. The orders He was referring to had been given months earlier, back when He indicated that she no longer needed to be so "careful" about avoiding becoming pregnant, a surprising change considering His violent reaction the one previous time she actually had.

In her bed in the room she, until the day before, shared with her useless husband, Bellatrix shuddered. What had she been thinking? What was wrong with her? It was the damn baby, it had to be. The damn baby had been messing with her hormones since week one, turning her into a walking mess of contradicting emotions and impulsivity.

In September, after she learned she was pregnant, visited her younger sister Andromeda for (forced) advice, and revealed her condition to the Dark Lord, she started to feel like herself again. October and November passed uneventfully (as uneventful as war time could be, that is). But in December, the weight gain began. Not the little bit she experienced for the first three months, which saw her breasts growing one cup size but a hardly noticeable change to her midsection. Suddenly, she was gaining weight, significant weight, and struggling to hide it. She began wearing her Death Eater robes to all Death Eater meetings, uncharacteristic of a woman who, in the past, didn't even bother with robes and a mask when attacking Muggles or invading the Ministry. She never felt she had anything to hide before – she wanted the world to know where her loyalties lay – but suddenly all of her corsets and dresses were either uncomfortably tight or completely un-wearable and every day she wondered when those closest to her (namely Narcissa and Rodolphus) would notice.

She also worried, just a little, that her secret would be leaked to those blood-traitors and Mudbloods in the Order of the Phoenix, by none other than Andromeda, whose daughter and son-in-law were loyal to Dumbledore no matter what it might mean in regards to the safety of their own unborn child.

Despite the nagging anxiety over being found out and the building desire to find and destroy the so-called Golden Trio, everything was fine in the life of Bellatrix Black Lestrange.

Except one thing.

He wouldn't touch her.

He hadn't touched her since she told Him.

In September.

Over three months ago.

And she was dying to be touched.

She blamed this on the baby too. In the past, her sex drive (if it could be called that) was wrapped up entirely in Him. She didn't desire a shag, she desired Him. She didn't want to be fucked, she wanted to be fucked by Him. Which is why she viewed literally every single sexual encounter with her husband as a chore required by their marriage vows, one that had to be done frequently enough to avoid an issue, but also as infrequently as possible because she hated it.

Which is why it made no sense at all that she responded to him the way she had.

Three nights ago, somewhere after midnight (so technically two mornings ago) she'd awoken to a not-unpleasant feeling on her left arm. She was sleeping on her side, as usual, facing away from her husband.

"What the hell are you playing at?" she asked, debating whether to pull away.

"You're filling out," he said. "I noticed when you changed for bed tonight. You looked good."

"Filling out?" She rolled onto her back. "Am I a twelve-year-old who's just hit puberty?"

"You're an underfed forty-something who's suddenly developed a figure," he said. She scowled, but allowed him to continue lightly running his fingertips across her inner forearm.

"So as you're aware," she said, turning to face him, "Calling a woman 'a forty-something' won't exactly make her want to hop into bed with you."

"You're already in bed with me." His hand snaked from her arm to her ribcage, brushing just barely against the bottom of her breast. "You're my wife."

"Don't remind me." Her tone was acidic, but she didn't stop him from moving his hand higher. He cupped her breast and squeezed. Despite her loyalty to the man she called her Master, when Rodolphus leaned over to kiss her she accepted his tongue in her mouth, rolling onto her back, and raked her nails roughly up to his shoulders.

Fuck, it had been so long since the last time anybody touched her.

As much as the thought of being with him repulsed her, to be perfectly fair, her husband was a good kisser. 'He kisses like a woman,' she thought as he continued to explore her mouth, 'All softness and without force.' The Dark Lord never kissed her like that. He claimed her mouth the same way He claimed her body: insistently, possessively, and generally without unnecessary tenderness.

Rodolphus' mouth made its way from her lips to her neck to her chest. He flicked his tongue under the material of her nightgown and she moaned. Using one hand, he pushed aside the fabric and took her nipple into his mouth.

Damn, it felt good. She closed her eyes and tried to envision herself at seventeen again, in the bed of the Dark Lord, but for perhaps the first time ever the fantasy failed her. Rodolphus' free hand slid down her side to her hip as momentarily she panicked, sure he would realize she'd gained weight in more than her chest.

"Don't," she said, moving his hand back up.

He looked at her quizzically but did not argue, no doubt just happy in the fact she wasn't denying him.

The sex itself was fine. Her husband had never been a master in the bedroom, but she supposed he was adequate so long as she kept her expectations low, and he got her off (for a change) which was, in her opinion, all that mattered. Shortly thereafter she fell asleep, never intending for anyone to find out about it.

Certainly never intending for the Dark Lord to probe her mind and witness it Himself.

A knock at the door made her jump. Assuming Narcissa had returned, she waved the lock charm off the door and called in a still-raspy voice, "Enter."

"Good morning," came the silky, expressionless voice of one of her least favorite people. "So lovely to see you."

Bellatrix hastened to pull up her comforter, hiding as many of her visible injuries as possible, determined not to appear weak in front of this loathsome man.

"It would be polite for you to return my greeting," he chastised condescendingly. She glared at him.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Snape?"


	7. WHORE

**CHAPTER SEVEN: WHORE**

“You’re looking well, I see,” Severus Snape said, closing the door. Smirking at her.

“Fuck you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Lestrange, for that very attractive offer, but I doubt I can afford you on a professor’s salary.”

“You couldn’t afford a moment with me if you were the wealthiest man in the entire United Kingdom,” she said flirtatiously, almost like a challenge. He raised an eyebrow.  

“Oh? Tell me, what does the Dark Lord gift you in exchange for letting him do…” he indicated her face with a swirl of his right index finger, “This?”

Her smile dissipated. “You think I asked for this?”

“I think you’ve been _asking for it_ for at least twenty-five years.”

“You’re jealous,” she snapped, clearly ruffled. “Jealous because I’m His most loyal, His most respected, His most valued…”

“Yes,” Snape drawled, an amused glint in his eye. “Yes, I’m jealous. Can you imagine how many times I’ve cried myself to sleep because the Dark Lord has never once indicated his desire to hold me down and fuck me until I was near-death?”

“I imagine you’d have been happier as Dumbledore’s little plaything,” she teased. “I’ve heard rumors about the sort he was into. And you did call him one of the greatest wizards of all time. Why is that, Severus? Why so loyal to your other master? Just how many ways as he worked you?” Snape did not react. She pressed on. “You are jealous of me. You all are. You all know that I am the _only_ one the Dark Lord desires.”

Snape smiled cruelly. “How can you be so naïve, Bellatrix? You’re not the _only_ one; you’re the _most accessible_ one. You, of all people, should know that. You know that He’s had others. You’ve had others _with_ Him, haven’t you? I’ve heard rumors too… rumors about tortured Muggle women… rumors about willing young women seeking the Dark Mark… rumors about you and your own sister…”

Her busted lips puffed into a familiar pout. He’d gotten to her, not that she’d admit it. “You shouldn’t put stock in such ridiculous rumors, Severus.”

“Forgive me,” he said without a trace of genuine apology. “May I sit?” Without waiting for a response he settled himself on the end of the bed in the same place both Draco and Narcissa had. She looked him over, considering her next move.

“Why are you here? I didn’t send for you.”

“No,” confirmed Snape. He pulled a green glass bottle from a small bag he’d hidden in his robes. “And trust me, there are far better places I would like to be on Christmas day, but the Dark Lord sent me. He has something for you.”

Her heart leapt. Maybe He wasn’t angry anymore. Maybe she was forgiven! Oh, if only she could remember what happened the other night.

“Stop it,” snapped Snape. “You look like a puppy who thinks she’s about to receive a treat. Pathetic and hopeful.”

“You’d know all about being pathetic, wouldn’t you? How’s your girlfriend’s son doing? Still on the run? Too bad she didn’t live to see what a nuisance he’d turn out to be, eh?”

Snape’s eyes flashed. “What do you know of it?”

“The Dark Lord told me,” she said, happy to have the upper hand again, her voice teasingly full of condescension, the voice she used when mocking young Longbottom about his parents in the Ministry of Magic. “He told me all about how you begged Him to spare Lily Potter, how He actually tried to do so but how the stupid little bitch wouldn’t step aside, so He had to kill her too.” She put on a little pout, feigning sympathy. “Do you miss her? Did you love her? Did you love that Muggle-born filth, even after she married Potter? Hmm? You seem surprised by how much I know, but He told me all about that night after He came back, Severus. We do more in bed together than sleep, you know.” Taunting him, it felt so good, she almost forgot about the scale of her injuries… for a moment.

“I’m aware that you do more than sleep,” Snape said, hand clutched so tightly on his wand that his knuckles had gone white. “Somewhere between talking about me and flatbacking for the Dark Lord, you apparently have time left over for Him to rearrange your face. Personally, I like you better this way. It’s a good look for you. As damaged on the outside as on the inside. As long as we’re discussing people from our past, did they ever find the man who murdered your stepfather almost thirty years ago? You must have been heartbroken when he died. Lucius tells me the two of you were very… _close_.”

The memory of _that man_ chilled her worse than walking through a ghost. “Go to hell, Snape. That was low, even for you.”

“Your words were just as nasty,” he pointed out. “Besides, you started it.”

“Very mature,” she said in a baby voice. “Ickle Snapey says I started it, finks I can’t finish it, does he? Seems to forget I always finish what I’ve started. You want to talk about my parents? Fine. Then let’s talk about yours. Reliving old times, what fun! Whatchyou got to say now? Nothing? Cat got your tongue?”

He looked her over, expressionless. “How are your thighs?”

“I…” That wasn’t the response she’d expected. “Excuse me?”

“The bruising was significant. He left his fingerprints across your skin.”

That gave her pause. How could Snape possibly know about the state of her thighs?

“In case you’re wondering, and I know you are, I tended to you the other night, when he nearly killed you,” Snape explained, completely devoid of empathy (probably deservingly so). “You were passed out. You could barely breathe, your airway was obstructed by the swelling. I gave you this.” He handed her the tonic in the green bottle. “You can take more if your throat is sore. I would’ve come yesterday but I had pressing matters at Hogwarts. Your sister said she’d look in on you. This…” he pulled out a round blue tub, not labeled, “Contains a healing salve of my own creation. It will minimize the effects of the bruising, cut in half your recovery time, and provide you with some semblance of pain relief, though the discoloration of your skin will not be affected so you’ll still look as though you’ve been run over by the Knight Bus. Here.”

She took both and placed them on the small table beside her bed.

“You’re welcome.”  

“Why?” she whispered. “Why help me? You hate me.”

“It’s mutual.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t!” She tossed her hair, arrogant as ever. “I simply asked why.”

“The Dark Lord wants to ensure you’ll live. As you said, you’re _one of_ His most loyal servants.” She tried to raise an eyebrow, set to argue against “one of,” but he cut her off, assuming she was reacting to the end of his sentence. “Oh, did you think you were something more? Something more than a servant? Just because He’s knocked you up doesn’t make you any more or less than what you were before, will always be, and have always been.”

“He…” She choked back the sudden urge to vomit, “He didn’t ‘knock me up,’ thank you.”

“Was it someone else then? Your husband? No, couldn’t be. Lucius, perhaps? No, Lucius would’ve told me. He rather enjoys sharing the particulars of his many conquests... especially women he meets in… alleyways.”

She knew to what he was referring but refused to take the bait, instead seeking clarity. “You said I’ve been ‘flatbacking’ for the Dark Lord. What does that mean?”

Snape stared at her a moment, then let out an uncharacteristic laugh. “You haven’t heard that term before? Think about it, Bellatrix. You’ll figure it out if you put your mind to it. Or would you prefer I’d have said something less ambiguous? I could have gone with saying you’ve been ‘spreading your legs’ for Him, but when put that way, it sounds so crude. Out of sheer morbid curiosity, does He always leave you this way, or were the two of you trying something new?”

“You think I wanted this?” she asked, indicating the bruising on her neck and face.

“I have no idea what you’re into, nor do I want to know, but I am aware that the two of you have left others in a similar state… albeit dead… so I assumed…”

“I was being punished for my insubordination at our meeting. He said I needed to learn a valuable lesson about my place.”

“And did you learn it?”

“Fuck off. You can leave.”

Snape stood but he did not make his way toward the door. “Why do you care that I know you didn’t want this? In case you think I’m a complete dunderhead, let me assure you that I knew upon first sight of you that you couldn’t have. I wasn’t certain I could save you, and honestly, I don’t know that I would have worked so hard to do so had the Dark Lord not demanded it himself. I’ve seen our fellow Death Eaters rape countless women since the start of the first war but never once have I seen one left in the deplorable condition in which I found you.”

“He didn’t rape me,” she protested meekly, unwilling to believe otherwise, determined to defend Him if for no other reason than to prove she was indeed His most loyal.

“Don’t be stupid,” said Snape. “You said yourself you didn’t ask for this.”

“I’m sure He just got… carried away.” Her tone changed as she tried a new approach, kneeling up on the bed, leaning toward him, one hand making its way up the front of his fitted black robes. “Do you ever get… carried away, Severus?”

Snape’s lip curled in disgust. He shook his head, causing his greasy black hair to fall momentarily across his face, then backed up a step so she couldn’t reach him. “He raped you. I’m not surprised you’re still loyal to Him – we all are, no matter what we personally endure, because we believe in Him and our cause – but you’re daft if you don’t admit to yourself that He raped you. At first glance, I thought you were dead.”

“He didn’t want me to die,” she said, certain her Master loved her even though He’d never say so. “He needs me.”

Snape charged forward, grabbing Bellatrix by the upper arms, surprising her and shaking her slightly the way the Dark Lord had the night of their fight. “You say it as if it means something. As if it means He cares for you. He doesn’t care for you; He _uses_ you. You’re good at what you do – on a battlefield and, also apparently, in a bedroom – and He doesn’t wish to lose that. But I’ve never in my life seen a woman so broken in the way you were after He was finished with you the other night. And you know some of the things I’ve seen. If you think that’s love, or affection, or anything other than a mix of convenience and an innate need to assert His dominance, you’re far stupider than I’d previously thought you were, and that’s saying something.”

He shoved her backwards onto the bed and turned so fast his cloak spun out, making him look like an overgrown bat about to be enveloped by his own wings. He was almost to the door when she called him back.

“Stop! Tell me what I looked like!” Bellatrix demanded. “I need to know.”

He turned, sneering. “You know how you look now?”

She nodded.

“Well, you looked worse.” He reached for the door handle.

“I don’t remember what happened,” she admitted. “I don’t really remember yesterday. I don’t remember anything about leaving His chambers and returning to my room. I barely remember how our fight began and I certainly don’t remember being… being raped, if that’s what happened. Tell me, Severus. Tell me what I looked like when you found me.”

He paused. He sighed. He shook his head. Then, almost defeated, he returned to the bed and sat down.

Snape stared at Bellatrix for an uncomfortably long time, but she refused to break eye contact, unwilling to back down if he was ready for a fight, but also ready to push him away should he try to invade her thoughts using Legilimency.

“You really want to know? Fine. It was well after midnight when the Dark Lord summoned me away from Hogwarts. I reported to His chambers. He granted me entrance. You were passed out in the bed, but I didn’t yet know it was you. He gestured your way and said, ‘Don’t let her die.’ I said I would do all I could. He said, ‘When you’re done, return her to her bedroom, fetch her sister, and summon me.’ That’s when I realized it was you on the bed. Your face was covered by your hair. You’d been tortured, both with the Cruciatus curse and, more violently, without magic, in an apparent fit of rage. Your dress was torn and on the floor.”

“Was I…?”

“You were wearing a slip. It left little to the imagination. The Dark Lord left. I do not know where He went. You were barely breathing. You were bleeding from your nose, your lip, a cut above your eye, and from…” He paused. “You were bleeding.”

Bellatrix placed her hands on her lower abdomen, hoping to feel something, anything.

“My baby…?”

“Seems to be fine, but as I reminded the Dark Lord hours later, I am neither a midwife nor a healer; I’m not a nurse or a mediwizard. I am merely a school Potions Master. I apparated to my home on Spinner’s End to retrieve the potion, the salve, and a few other supplies. When I returned you were no better or worse. I administered the potion first, so you could breathe. Then I set to cleaning you up.”

“You cleaned me up?” Her cheeks stung with humiliation at the notion of being cared for by the contemptuous Severus Snape, a man whose loyalties she’d long doubted, a man she’d goaded into making the Unbreakable Vow with her sister last year in great part because she’d hoped he would fail and die for it. She couldn’t stand the thought of having been an invalid at his mercy. Not to mention the sheer embarrassment of having shown such weakness to another living soul.

“As I said, you were bleeding. I applied the salve to all areas that were either bruised or looked like they would turn to bruises, which included your face, upper arms, right wrist, neck, along your ribcage on the left, and both your inner and outer thighs.”

She was taken aback. “You massaged this lotion onto my inner thighs?”

He smirked. “Trust me, it was no more pleasant for me than it would have been for you.”

She refrained from again telling him to fuck off, instead asking, “What happened when you brought me back to my room?”

“Rodolphus was out. I removed your slip and placed it with your torn dress on top of your dresser. I found the nightshirt in a drawer and dressed you in it.”

“Where’s my bra?”

“I never saw it.”

“So you saw me…?”

“Topless?” Again he smirked. “Yes. But as I said, trust me when I say it was no more pleasurable for me than it would have been for you.”

“Fuck off,” she snapped, arrogantly adding, “I’ll have you know I’ve got a fantastic figure. You were lucky to see me.”

“Fantastic figure? You’re getting fat,” he retorted matter-of-factly. “How long do you think you can hide this mess?”

“You mean my pregnancy?”

“No, I mean your terrible personality. Of course I mean your pregnancy.”

She shrugged. “Indefinitely.”

He scoffed but refrained from comment. “Once you were settled, I watched you sleep for about an hour, in case you relapsed. I did not wish for you to die in your sleep, namely because I do not wish to be killed by the Dark Lord for my inability to keep you alive as demanded. When I was certain you’d live, I tracked down your husband, told him you’d been punished severely and put to bed, then I found your sister, returned to the Dark Lord’s chambers, summoned Him, assured Him my job was done to the best of my abilities, left your sister to further care for you, and returned to Hogwarts, to spend Christmas Eve day alone, as I prefer it. Any additional questions?” He had explained this all very coolly, in his usual unaffected way, but Bellatrix could not shake the sneaking suspicion that seeing her in that condition bothered him more than he would admit, even though it was no secret they loathed each other.

“Did you touch me?” she asked accusingly. “When I was passed out?”

“No,” he replied sardonically. “I applied the salve to your bruises through osmosis.”

She shot him a withering look. “I didn’t mean that, I meant…”

“As I’ve now told you _multiple_ times,” he interjected with a look just as withering, “I took _no pleasure_ in our interaction. I touched you no more or less than was absolutely necessary. Are we through?” He stood to leave.

“Two more questions,” she answered, holding up two fingers.

“Ask them quickly. I haven’t got all day to tend to you.”

She glared at him threateningly, though her attempt to be intimidating was largely ineffective considering her battered appearance. “First, where was my husband? If it was the middle of the night, he should have been in bed.”

“He _was_ in bed,” said Snape with a hint of malice. “Just not yours.”

This came as quite a shock. “Who is she?”

“Is that your second question? Because I won’t answer a third.”

“No,” she said quickly, though she certainly intended to find out who her long-cuckolded husband was suddenly fucking. “It’s about the baby. You aren’t going to tell anyone, are you?”

Snape smiled, a taunting, nasty little smile, and twirled his wand in his hand. “What if I did?”

“The Dark Lord would be angry.” She tried to hide the rising panic from her voice. “Very, very angry. It would be a grave mistake to cross Him on this.”

“You’re right,” agreed Snape. “The Dark Lord made it quite clear that I was not to mention your _condition_ to anyone. He seems to think it would make you appear weak to our enemies and we can’t have that. It wouldn’t be good for our cause. I have chosen to comply, though He insisted I also make the Unbreakable Vow, which I did.”

“Who did it? Who presided over the Unbreakable Vow?”

“You asked two questions and I answered two questions. If you wish to garner more information, ask your lover.”

Though this annoyed her, she nodded, and settled back against the headboard, eager for him to leave so she could take the potion and apply the salve and possibly fall asleep again. Everything hurt. She closed her good eye, waiting for the creak of the door. But it didn’t come. She opened her eye. Snape was staring at her, his hand on the doorknob.

“Your husband left you,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I’m aware.”

“Are you aware that he’s sharing a bedroom with his brother now? They transfigured a desk into a second bed. I’m sure he’d prefer to stay with his mistress, but her husband surely wouldn’t like that.”

With her one good eye, Bellatrix searched his face for any hint as to the identity of this woman, but of course he gave none, and to attempt Legilimency on him would be futile. “She’s married, this woman?”

“Tut, tut. Didn’t I just tell you I’d answer no more questions?”

She gritted her teeth. Of course he’d brought up Rodolphus and this news of his affair simply to goad her, clearly wishing to leave while he had the upper hand. It was infuriating. Her wand hand twitched. She wondered if she could perform any of the Unforgivable Curses in her current condition. How satisfying it would feel to hit him with the Cruciatus, just once.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “And I wouldn’t if I were you. When I’ve gone, use the salve, drink the potion. Do not let your pride get the better of you. I will check on you again in a few days. Try not to die in the interim.”

“I’ll do my very best,” she promised sarcastically.

“Good. Happy Christmas.”

“Thank you. Now kindly fuck off.”

He smiled, nodded, and was gone.

Once her door was securely locked, she sank into the bed and allowed herself to cry for the first time since September. She felt lost, completely lost. She wasn’t even quite sure why she was crying. Sure, she was in pain, but that wasn’t it. She’d been in physical pain for two days and not cried. Why now?

Slowly, she was remembering more from the previous day. Waking up beside Rodolphus, being annoyed by his concern, trying to decide how to assuage his confusion over why a moment’s insubordination at their meeting would result in an entire overnight of violent physical torture.

“He knows we slept together two nights ago,” she’d finally explained, but the look on his face told her she hadn’t given him enough information. “He’s angry because I’m pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” Puzzlement swept across her husband’s face. “How is that possible? You can’t know already that you’re pregnant. It’s only been a day.”

“I was pregnant before, you idiot,” she snapped. “It’s not yours. It’s His.”

“His?” Rodolphus scrambled out of the bed, staring in horror at his wife. “His, as in, the Dark Lord’s? You’re having His baby?”

“You knew about me and Him,” she started, but he cut her off.

“I knew you were shacking up with Him,” said Rodolphus, “As you have been for years, but pregnant? Shit, Bellatrix! How many times, how many times in our marriage have I asked you to conceive? How many times have I asked you to give me a son? It’s all I’ve ever asked! I’ve never once asked you to stop what you do with Him. I’ve never once asked you to fulfill your marital duties when you haven’t wanted to! I haven’t asked anything of you at all, ever, except that I’ve wanted you to provide me with a son. Before we went to Azkaban, you remember? How many fucking times, how many fucking times back then did I tell you it was all I wanted?”

“I can’t produce sons on demand, Rodolphus.”

“But you can give the Dark Lord an heir?” He was furious, his fist balled up and raised, and for the briefest moment she thought he might strike her. “That’s it, Bella. That’s it, I’m done.”

From under the bed he pulled a briefcase. He transfigured it into a suitcase and began moving around the room, using magic to send clothes and other necessities into it.

“What are you doing?” she asked, too tired and pained to want to spare a moment’s time for his theatrics. “Knock it off.”

“I said I’m fucking done, woman. I’m through with you. I’ll be staying with my brother from tonight on. I’d rather bunk with him the way we did when we were kids than spend one more night sleeping beside the Dark Lord’s whore.”

“Well, to hell with you too then,” she said, struggling with the raw feeling inside her throat that intensified with every word she spoke. “Get out.”

“The next time He does you like this,” began Rodolphus, pointing his wand at her face while grabbing his suitcase with his free hand, “I hope He fucking kills you.”

“Troglodyte,” she rasped, going for the first insult that came to mind as he stalked off to the door, turning back only long enough to throw out his own barb:

“Slag.”

He slammed the door and was gone.

She was alone.

Save for the baby, she was alone.

Soon, she slipped into a restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the ridiculously long delay in my updates! I haven't been able to log in until today, but it's all good now and I'll be posting 2-3 times per week. Thanks for your patience! Thanks for reading! -AL


	8. LIES

**CHAPTER EIGHT:**

**LIES**

When Narcissa returned it was well past lunchtime and Bellatrix’s stomach was aching from hunger, but given the extreme discomfort that accompanied the swallowing of the liquid potion Snape had left, she wasn’t overly keen to attempt to eat.

“You can’t starve yourself,” said Narcissa, setting a tray holding soup and fruit down on the bedside table. “That’s not good for you or for the baby.”

“Who is she?” asked Bellatrix, pulling herself into a seated position and picking up (but not eating) a grape. “The woman who’s having an affair with my husband. Do you know?”

“I… what makes you think he’s having an affair?” Narcissa twirled a strand of blonde hair around her forefinger, the way she did when she was a child, which drove their mother batty.

“Snape told me. We had quite the illuminating chat.”

Narcissa blanched. “I… He… what did he tell you?”

“Weren’t you listening? He told me my husband is having an affair! Do you know who he’s messing around with? Does Lucius?”

“Does Lucius know who your husband has been sleeping with?”

“Dammit, Cissy, give me an answer! Do you know who my husband’s screwing or not?”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Does Rodolphus know he’s going to be a father?”

“He’s not.”

“He’s… not?”

Bellatrix huffed. “The hell is wrong with you today, Cissy? Stammering and repeating back everything I say? You’re hiding something. I can always tell. Look at me.”

Narcissa shifted her gaze to the far wall. “I won’t look at you.”

“Because you know I can always tell.”

“Because you’ll rifle through my thoughts. You know I’m no good at Occlumency.”

Bellatrix pulled her thick hair into a ponytail. “What are you afraid I’ll see, little sister?”

“Noth… nothing.”

“You lie. Look at me.”

Despite her better judgment, Narcissa made eye contact with Bellatrix, who, of course, then penetrated her mind, which was a rather unpleasant feeling. 

“You’re trying to force me out,” Bellatrix said, sounding amused. “There _is_ something in here you don’t want me to see.”

Terrified she would discover the worst of what Narcissa was hiding, the younger sister pushed an almost equally terrible memory into the forefront of her mind.

_“You…” hissed the Dark Lord, beckoning to Narcissa, who stood frozen in the doorway to his chambers, “You will act as Bonder as Severus makes the Unbreakable Vow.”_

_“I’ve never done this before,” whispered Narcissa, who wanted nothing to do with whatever promise Severus Snape was about to make to the Dark Lord._

_Voldemort gave a curt nod, as if acknowledging her worry, but then said, “If you value the life of your sister, you’ll manage.”_

_For the briefest moment, Narcissa thought He meant Andromeda, the middle Black sister, the one she’d never really been emotionally close to despite being closer in age. Narcissa knew that Snatchers had been after Andromeda’s Muggle-born husband. Ted Tonks, for some time and wondered if they’d taken her instead. Her stomach churned. She looked to Severus, but before she could ask any questions, he, presumably having read her mind, answered._

_“Bellatrix is not well, but she should live.”_

_“Bellatrix?”_

_“Bellatrix has a secret,” said the Dark Lord, shifting His eyes from Narcissa to Severus and back again. “A secret we do not wish to see leaked to our adversaries. Forgive me, Severus, if it seems that I doubt your loyalty-”_

_“Of my loyalty, sir, I can assure you-”_

_“Do not interrupt. I shall rephrase. It is_ not _that I doubt your loyalty, but rather that I have my reservations when it comes to trusting one’s human nature. You, Severus, are only human. To err is human. So in order to protect her – and by extension, our cause – I will have you make the Unbreakable Vow, swearing that you’ll not reveal her condition... or any information surrounding what led us here, assuming you understand what I mean by this. Narcissa, presumably, does not know to what I am alluding, and is therefore appropriately perplexed. Confirm.” The Dark Lord nodded toward Narcissa. His last word was clearly a command. Severus placed two fingers below Narcissa’s chin and guided her face toward his, making eye contact. This time she was aware that he was poking about in her mind but what he sought to find she genuinely did not know._

_“She is completely unaware,” Severus assured the Dark Lord._

_“Then we begin.”_

_Worry danced clearly across Narcissa’s face. Of the three Black sisters, she was always least adept at hiding her true feelings, and, at the moment, she had so very much to hide. “What am I asking him to promise, my Lord?”_

_“He will keep secret her condition. He will not reveal the circumstances surrounding it to anyone. And he will, over these next five months, do all that within his power to keep her alive.”_

_“Is she dying, my Lord?” asked Narcissa, a tremble in her voice._

_“No questions. Take out your wand.”_

_The Dark Lord and Severus Snape clasped each other’s wrists. Narcissa hovered her wand above their hands, as she’d seen her sister do when presiding over the Vow at Spinner’s End, the day Snape promised to keep Draco from harm and carry out his task, should he be unable to manage it._

_“You’re aware of the incantation?” asked Severus in his usual reserved drawl. “It must be done nonverbally.”_

_“Yes,” whispered Narcissa. “I’m ready.” She took a deep, shaking breathe in, let it out slowly, and began. “Do you, Severus Snape, vow to keep secret the current condition of my sister, Bellatrix Lestrange?”_

_“I do.”_

_“Do you, Severus Snape, vow not to reveal the circumstances the led to Bella’s condition to anyone?”_

_“I do.”_

_“And do you, Severus Snape, vow to do all that is within your power to keep my sister alive over these next five months?”_

_“I do.”_

_Around their hands appeared three red-gold lines that moved and swirled, bonding them in the Unbreakable Vow. The Dark Lord let go of Severus Snape’s wrist first and nodded at Narcissa._

_“You have done as requested and may go.”_

_“Yes, my Lord.”_

_“You too, Severus. I wish to be alone.”_

_“Yes, my Lord.”_

_When they were in the hall far enough away from the Dark Lord’s chambers that they felt it was safe to speak, Narcissa grabbed Severus’ arm and turned him toward her._

_“What happened to my sister?” she asked. “What condition is she in?”_

_“I have just made the Unbreakable Vow preventing me from revealing that,” said Severus with a sneer. “Or weren’t you there?”_

_“I…yes. I’m sorry…”_

_“She’s alive. She’s asleep. In the morning, you can see her for yourself.”_

_“It’s already morning…” She gestured toward the window, through which the first streaks of light were shining through as the sun rose through low-hanging clouds._

_“And I’ve missed out on an entire night’s sleep. I’m going back to Hogwarts. Only call on me in an absolute emergency.”_

_“Will you also keep secret… that other thing?” asked Narcissa. Snape raised an eyebrow._

_“What an odd question, considering…”_

_“When he said my sister, I thought he meant Andromeda.”_

_“Andromeda is fine.”_

_“Can we be certain?”_

_He smiled in a way that was somehow placating but lacked condescension. “You worry too much, Narcissa.”_

_“I worry about my family,” she replied, stepping closer to him. “I worry about everyone I care about. I’m not built for war. I’m not strong enough.”_

_“I think you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.” Now he stepped closer. They were separated by mere inches._

_“She’s my sister. If the Dark Lord knew…”_

_“Sometimes you surprise me,” he interjected, leaning in toward her, his hand making its way to her waist, drawing her in. “I wouldn’t have thought…”_

“No!” Narcissa hadn’t meant to say it aloud, but she couldn’t let Bellatrix see another moment.

“What the bloody hell was that?” asked Bellatrix. “Are you sleeping with Snape? What secrets are you sharing with him?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Narcissa, refusing to make further eye contact. “Will the Vow be affected, since you’d seen into my thoughts?”

“No. Severus has been sworn to secrecy, you haven’t, nor have I.”

“I didn’t know what they were referring to, when they spoke of your condition. I’m still not certain. They could mean… this…” Narcissa gently touched the bruising on Bellatrix’s wrist, “Or that.” She indicated her sister’s slightly protruding midsection.

“Does it matter? Now you know I’m pregnant, and Severus does, and Rodolphus does, and the Dark Lord does too, and I’d say that’s quite enough people, wouldn’t you?” Bellatrix conveniently left out the name of the first person to whom she’d revealed her pregnancy – sister Andromeda, cast out of the family for marrying a Muggle-born.

“I... yes.”

“Are you sleeping with Snape?”

“No.”

“Are you sleeping with Snape?”

“I’m married.”

Bellatrix took Narcissa face in her hands, forcing her to make eye contact, intending to see for herself. “Are you sleeping with Snape?”

“I told you I’m not!” Narcissa stood, turning her back to her sister, arms folded defensively across her chest. “I’m married.”

“Does it matter? Marriage? It’s a contractual agreement, not a declaration of love.”

“It is both,” argued Narcissa, spinning around to face her sister again. “I swore to respect and honor and obey my husband when we were wed, but I also loved him then and love him now.”

“You know that he cheats on you?”

“I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do. I can tell that you do. It’s alright if you cheat on him too.”

Narcissa bristled. “Your marriage of convenience is nothing like mine. I love my husband and he loves me. I married him because I loved him, not simply because of his last name and parentage and bloodline.”

Bellatrix grinned. “Don’t pretend his bloodline had nothing to do with it. Mother nearly died of delight when you said you were marrying a Malfoy. She kept prattling on, ‘Oh, if only your father were alive to see this!’ Remember?”

“I remember her saying it. I don’t remember our father. Do you?”

“Of course I do. Don’t change the subject. Come back, sit by me.” She put on a pout, which looked even more pathetic with her busted lip. “Please? I’m lonely.”

Rather than settling at the end of the bed, Narcissa crawled cross it to the place typically taken by Rodolphus. She leaned back against the ornate headboard, brought her knees up to her chest, and wrapped her arms around them.

“That pose makes you look very young, little sister,” said Bellatrix, rolling uncomfortably onto her side. Narcissa stretched her legs out straight again and shifted enough to allow Bellatrix to place her head in her lap, the way Mother used to do when they were little girls. Also like Mother, Narcissa stroked Bella’s hair, knowing well the comforting feeling of long nails working their way through her own hair from her temple, above her ear, and to the base of her spine. With a flick of her wrist, Bellatrix vanished the tie holding her ponytail in place, freeing wild dark curls. Even though she was the eldest and Narcissa the youngest, she needed, in this moment, to be babied.

“Everything hurts, Cissy,” whined Bellatrix, silently cursing the tears building up in her eyes. “He punished me for hours and it still hurts.”

“I’m sorry, Bella.” Narcissa continued to run her fingers through her sister’s hair.

“Has Lucius ever hurt you, Cissy? Physically, I mean. Has he ever… has he ever raped you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Narcissa, her voice soothing and maternal. “He can’t possibly, he’s my husband.”

“I know he’s your husband, but has he… ever tried… to rape you?”

“Your question doesn’t make sense, Bella. He can’t rape me, we’re married.”

“That doesn’t mean he couldn’t force himself on you if he wanted to.”

“He wouldn’t have to. If he wants me, I’m available to him. That’s how marriage works. Why are you asking?” Narcissa’s voice shook as she asked, “Did Rodolphus…?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Narcissa let out a breath of relief. “That’s good.”

“Sometimes you’re so dense, little sister.” Bellatrix closed her good eye, from which tears were now streaming down across the top of her cheek and over the bridge of her nose, then dripping onto Cissy’s lap.

“I don’t understand, Bella. Tell me.”

“Not Rodolphus,” she said. “I don’t… I don’t quite remember. But the Dark Lord, He was very angry, and Severus Snape… Snape… he had to help me, afterward he had to fix me up, and he said… he told me…”

“Did the Dark Lord rape you?” Narcissa immediately ceased her actions with her sister’s hair, looking horrified. Bellatrix sat up.

“I hurt so much, Cissy,” she said, tears flowing even more freely now. Narcissa took her in her arms like a child. “I don’t understand! I would have… I would… Like you said, with your marriage… if He’d wanted to, I would have… I… He… if He did, He didn’t need to!”

“Oh, Bella,” Narcissa whispered, unwilling to fully process what she was hearing. Obviously she knew He’d cursed her, beaten her, but this? Why? Why, when she was His most loyal follower? How could she be deserving of this? For what? For speaking out of turn in a meeting with His inner circle? The last time Lucius had done so, he’d suffered three minutes of the Cruciatus Curse in front of everyone and then it was promptly forgotten, lesson learned. Why so much anger for what Bellatrix had done?

“Has he ever hurt you?” asked Bellatrix. “On purpose, out of anger? Hit you or… or pulled your hair… or… anything?”

“You live here, Bellatrix. You’ve lived here for nearly two years, don’t you think you’d have noticed if my husband was abusing me? Let’s talk about something else.”

“Fine.” Bellatrix sighed, closing her good eye for so long Narcissa thought perhaps she’d fallen asleep. “Do you ever think about Andromeda?”

Narcissa blinked, puzzled. They hadn’t spoken of Andromeda – not to each other – since before Bellatrix got sent to Azkaban, save for the first time they saw each other after she escaped to Malfoy Manor and asked, “Is the blood-traitor still married?” A simple yes was all Narcissa had to say. Bellatrix spit on the ground, making clear her disgust, and that was the end of it.

“I hate to admit it,” Narcissa began, wondering how honest she should be, “But I used to think about her all the time, especially when you were first in Azkaban. I was terribly lonely without you. The war had just ended, we’d lost so many friends, it was hard to know where anyone’s loyalties lay – half our social circle claimed to have been under the Imperius curse – which meant we couldn’t know who to trust and had to pretend like it was all alright. Lucius was never home, he was having an affair, one of his lengthier ones. Draco was only a year and a half old, he couldn’t carry on a conversation, and I love him dearly but he was so needy! He cried all the time. I was a terrible mother then, a real mess. Father was gone, Stepfather was gone, Mother was gone. I hated her so much at that time. Andromeda, that is, not Mother. If Andromeda hadn’t run off with that Mudblood, she’d still be our sister, and I could have relied on her in your absence. Our children would have grown up knowing each other. Things could have been so different. To answer your question, though, no, I don’t think about her, not really. Not anymore.”

Bellatrix snuggled closer, her right arm wrapped around Narcissa’s waist. “She’s going to be a grandmother.”

“What?” Narcissa pushed Bellatrix away so she could look at her. “How do you know that? I didn’t hear anything.”

“I don’t remember from whom I heard it, but I heard the news in September and it’s since been confirmed. That half-blood daughter of hers and that half-breed werewolf Lupin are expecting.”

“That’s bizarre. We’re too young to be grandmothers.”

“Especially me,” said Bellatrix, again settling her head in Narcissa’s lap. “I first have to become a mother.”

“You’re the eldest,” Narcissa reminded her. “If any of us could be ready to be a grandmother, it would be you.”

Bellatrix knew her sister was only teasing, but the message preyed on her sensitivities anyway. “Do you really think I’m old? Perhaps too old? When it’s born I’ll be a month away from forty-seven.”

“And how old is the father?” asked Narcissa, too casually.

“Don’t do that. Don’t try to trick me into telling you who the father is. If you want to know, simply ask.”

“Alright. Who’s the father?”

“I’m not telling.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Promise me one thing? It’s not my Lucius, is it? You’d tell me if it were?”

“Seriously?” Bella sat up again, even though it pained her to do so. “Why does everyone assume I’m sleeping with Lucius? Have I ever given anyone any indication I feel anything beyond sheer loathing for that smarmy bastard?”

“He’ll fuck anything that moves,” answered Narcissa, with an unusual hardness in her voice. “You move, so I have to wonder.”

“I’m not sleeping with your husband,” Bellatrix assured her. “Nor would I ever want to.” She settled down for a third time. Narcissa returned to stroking her hair. Bellatrix sighed almost contentedly. “Cissy… have you ever lost a baby?”

“Yes,” Narcissa answered simply. “Have you?”

“Once, on purpose, but that’s all. How come you never told me you lost one?”

“I’ve lost three.”

“Three? Shit! Does this run in our family?”

“What do you mean? Did Mother lose a baby?”

Bellatrix paused. She couldn’t tell Narcissa about Andromeda’s multiple miscarriages without revealing that she’d recently been to see her, so instead she said, “I’m worried, that’s all. If I’m at risk of losing this baby I’d like to know.”

“If you must have the details, I got pregnant before I married Lucius. That’s why he married me. Mother made him. Don’t get me wrong, we were in love – I loved him very much – but we wouldn’t have had to rush…” Her voice trailed off. She took a deep breath in and let it out slowly before starting again. “The truth is, Bella, he wanted me to get rid of it but I refused. I like to think he would have married me anyway but I can’t know. I was young and stupid and he was the only boy I’d ever loved. The only one I’d ever even liked. I miscarried three days after the wedding. I was so certain he was going to leave me for it, I cried for weeks. But he didn’t. He said he loved me and wanted me to be his wife. Then there were two after Draco. One I lost and one…” She let that last word hang in the air, unable to finish her thought.

“One…?” Bellatrix prompted.

“I’m content with one child.”

Understanding dawned on Bella’s face. “Ah. So you got rid of one, too?”

Narcissa closed her eyes and fought to keep her voice steady. “Last year. After Lucius was sent to Azkaban.”

Bellatrix would have sprung up into a seated position again but her body was already exhausted from having done it before, so she clutched Narcissa’s left wrist instead.

“Cissy, you killed your baby last year? How? When? Where did you go? How didn’t I know? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t kill my baby, I terminated my pregnancy.”

“It’s the same damn thing. You’re arguing semantics.”

Narcissa opened her eyes and drew her gaze up to the ceiling, willing back tears. “I can’t think of it as killing my baby, Bella. I have to think of it as terminating my pregnancy.”

“Fine, then, whatever,” said Bellatrix flippantly. “Tell me about terminating your pregnancy.”

“It was early enough, all I had to do was take a potion. Severus made it. It was a matter of weeks before… before he and I made the Unbreakable Vow. That’s why he told me the Vow was the last favor he’d do for me, that I couldn’t ask him for anything else. I know I shouldn’t have done it, Bella, but my husband had just gone to prison, the Dark Lord was looking for ways to punish us, I feared I was in danger of losing my only son, and I couldn’t imagine bringing another baby into… into… into this war! Another soldier for the Dark Lord, another potential casualty at the hands of Dumbledore’s Order of the Phoenix. I just couldn’t do it!”

“You should be proud that the Dark Lord wanted to use Draco.”

“Please, Bella, I cannot have this argument with you again. Maybe you’ll understand, once your baby is born. From the moment I first held Draco in my arms… no other feeling can possibly compare.”

“You love him so much you didn’t desire a spare?”

“Seriously, Bellatrix! No mother refers to her second child as ‘a spare!’”

“Our Mother did. She called Andromeda ‘the spare’ and you ‘the accident.’ You just don’t remember because you were so little. After she married Stepfather and couldn’t conceive another, she stopped making those comments.”

“I was _not_ an accident!”

“You certainly weren’t planned. I’m not even sure you’re Father’s daughter. No one else in the family is blonde.”

“You know what I think?” asked Narcissa, glaring, twirling her blonde hair around her finger. “I think after a disappointing first daughter and a disastrous second one, Mother and Father created me and were so happy with the way I turned out they didn’t need any more.”

Bellatrix laughed. Laughing hurt her throat, but she couldn’t stop. “On the contrary, baby sister. Mother and Father were so happy with the way I’d turned out, they tried to replicate me by having the spare. When she was a walking disaster they made another attempt, got you, and realized perfection doesn’t strike twice in the same family so they might as well give up.”

“Well, at least we can agree on one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Andromeda was a disaster.” Narcissa scooted down so that she was lying beside Bellatrix instead of seated. Bella moved her head from Cissy’s lap to her chest, arm still around her sister’s waist. She could hear the rhythmic thump of Narcissa’s heart beating against her ear.

“Are you aware that there are rumors about us?” asked Bellatrix. “Inappropriate ones.”

“I’m not surprised,” answered Narcissa, which, to Bellatrix, was indeed a surprise. “I think my husband started those rumors. It’s a bizarre, twisted fantasy of his, seeing me with another woman, you in particular. He fancies you about as much as he loathes you. He always has. He tells me these things but I ignore him.”

“Men are pigs.”

“I concur.”

“I’ve been with women,” Bellatrix said, casually-but-loftily, as if she was admitting to having sampled caviar. “I enjoy it, for the most part. Something different.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do with a woman,” said Narcissa, lip curled in disgust. “I hardly know what to do with a man. And I certainly wouldn’t want to try being with two people at once. Perhaps that makes me old fashioned. Perhaps that’s why Lucius cheats on me. It’s December and we’ve had sex only seventeen times this year. This whole year. I know; I’ve kept count.”

“That’s so sad,” said Bellatrix with genuine pity. “I’ve had more sex with my husband and I don’t even _like_ him.” She tried to shift positions but winced, letting out an involuntary wimper. “Snape gave me a potion and a salve and I used both but fuck, Cissy, everything hurts.”

“Why don’t you sleep now?” Narcissa coaxed her sister back to her own side of the bed. “When you wake, I’ll have food brought to you. You have to eat. For your own health and for that of the baby.”

“I don’t want to be left alone, Cissy,” Bellatrix whined, no longer caring about showing weakness in front of her sister. “Stay with me?”

“You sleep. I’ll stay.”

“You won’t leave once I’m sleeping?”

“I’ll stay. I promise. Close your eyes.”

Bellatrix closed her one good eye, settling onto her back, not her usual sleeping position, but the least painful possibility for the moment. Narcissa closed her own eyes, exhausted from two nights of lying awake, worrying.

“You’ll stay?” asked Bellatrix again, sounding very much the way Narcissa used to when they were little, when she didn’t want to be alone in her bed, when she was afraid of their Stepfather and whether he might pay a nighttime visit.

“I’ll stay,” Narcissa promised, the same way Bellatrix always used to promise. “You sleep.”

Bellatrix slept.

Narcissa stayed.

But Narcissa didn’t sleep. She was consumed by guilt.

She’d never lied to her sister. Not really. She’d kept things from her – everyone does that, don’t they? – which was, technically, lying by omission, but she’d never outright lied. Until now. Now within one conversation she had lied to her big sister multiple times and only once did the elder sister even question it. Either that meant Bellatrix’s ability to read people was waning or that Narcissa’s ability to deceive them was improving.

She could only imagine what Bella’s response would be if she knew… the big secret. Disgust, anger, derision?

Perhaps, in a show of good faith, Narcissa should tell Bella the truth about Rodolphus. She knew where he’d been the night Bellatrix was punished. She knew who he’d been with. But in order to reveal this information she would have to confess how she knew, which she was absolutely unwilling to do, as it would surely lead to questions she wasn’t keen to answer.

The truth was, Narcissa was having an affair. After two decades of marriage, two decades of having to act like she wasn’t bothered by her husband’s philandering, she had had enough. She sought out her own extramarital experience by asking, somewhat pathetically, if one of the Dark Lord’s more trustworthy Death Eaters was interested in entering into a mutually beneficial arrangement with her. He was, thus they’d been seeing each other off **_and on (as ‘on’ as possible) since Easter, 1995 – nearly two years ago._** Lucius had become suspicious only once, shortly after his return from Azkaban, when he discovered a bottle of birth control tonic in her dresser drawer. He responded by ordering her to end it even as she denied anything was going on. It was the only time he’d ever truly gotten rough with her. Or, more accurately, it was the first time he’d ever left a mark. He’s grabbed her before, shaken her by the shoulders, and once, he pulled her hair, but he would never hit her in the face, never punch or kick her or hold her down, never ever _ever_ do to her what the Dark Lord was thought to have done to Bellatrix. He wouldn’t, no matter how angry he got. Unfaithfulness aside, he was her husband and she was his wife and those were positions that deserved respect. And, despite their difficulties, they loved each other.

She also didn’t tell this to her sister, but she genuinely felt that her miscarriage, the one after Draco was born, had been a blessing. He was two-and-a-half at the time, still needy, but precocious, learning new things every day, and she was in love with him. Most importantly, Narcissa was finally starting to feel like herself again after thirty months of absolute misery.

Throughout the fifteen years that followed her second miscarriage, Lucius asked repeatedly for another baby, and starting when Draco was **_THREE_** , she actually tried to give him one, but there were no more pregnancies. Lucius blamed her, calling her barren, assuring her that he _knew beyond a doubt_ that it couldn’t be _his_ problem, which she took to be code for “I’ve gotten other women pregnant.” She was tempted to ask why he didn’t just have a baby with any one of the little slags he kept on the side but never did, for fear he would say fine and do exactly that.

Last year’s pregnancy had been different.

She wanted it.

But it wouldn’t be a Malfoy.

And she couldn’t have that.

Beside her, Bellatrix stirred. Her body twitched. Narcissa could see her good eye moving rapidly behind its lid and wondered whether she was having a nightmare, whether she should wake her. Much the way she stared at baby Draco when she was unreasonably terrified that he would stop breathing in his sleep, she kept her eyes on Bellatrix for as long as she could, watching for any sign that something wasn’t right, worrying, until her own exhaustion became too great.

Narcissa dreamt about Him. The Dark Lord. She dreamt He summoned her to His chambers. He knew she’d been keeping a secret. He knew she’d been lying. He was angry. He grabbed her by the throat, held her down, pushed up her skirt…

She awoke out of breath, drenched in sweat. It took a second to realize where she was. Beside her, Bellatrix was still out cold. Breathing evenly, not twitching. Narcissa’s heart slowed to a normal pace. At a loss for anything else to do, she settled back down, used her wand to summon a quilt from the top of the hope chest, and covered them with it.

This time, her last thought before drifting off was of Andromeda.

Yes, she thought of her.

Often.

Especially lately.

They had just seen each other in **_SEPTEMBER_**. Why hadn’t Andromeda mentioned that she was going to be a grandmother? How did Bellatrix know?

Maybe Narcissa wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.


	9. CONFLICTED

**CHAPTER FOUR:**

**Conflicted**

Bellatrix had been, for lack of a better word, frustrated. Pregnancy was becoming more difficult by the day, not only more difficult to endure, but more difficult to hide, and aside from the shape of her body nothing had changed. The Dark Lord still regarded her as his most faithful servant, but nothing more – not even His mistress at the moment, which, she suddenly realized, was indeed a change, but an unwelcome one. The night she told Him she was carrying his baby, she was terrified. She had no idea how He'd react, whether He'd be pleased or angry, whether He'd want her to keep it or get rid of it. She was happily relieved when He whispered that He regarded her condition as a gift, a gift for her, from him, a reward for having been by his side since she was seventeen. She asked (hopefully) if she should divorce her husband but the Dark Lord laughed and assured her drawing attention to the matter would be the worst thing she could do. Then He'd taken her into His arms and into His bed and kissed her and held her and it was quite possibly the happiest night of her life thus far. They hadn't even made love, but she'd felt love. She loved Him. She was in love with him. She told Him often, when they were alone, how much she loved Him, how in love with Him she was. He never said it back, she wasn't sure He knew how, but she felt no confusion regarding her own feelings.

But after that tender night together, He regarded her in much the same way He did any other faithful servant. He rarely made mention of what He called her "condition," except when it meant denying her the pleasures He once would have afforded her – for example, several days ago, when the Lovegood girl was brought in, Bellatrix was excited. Fresh meat. Daughter of the crazy Quibbler editor, friend of Harry Potter, a girl Draco claimed had belonged to a group at Hogwarts who called themselves "Dumbledore's Army." Little Luna Lovegood seemed like an odd girl, flighty, not all there, a Ravenclaw who seemed too dreamy for her own house, and she was pretty. Very pretty. Pale, delicate, feminine, with long white-blonde hair and large eyes. Yes, Bellatrix could have had some fun with her. Back during the first war, Luna Lovegood was precisely the sort of prisoner the Dark Lord and Bella could have enjoyed together. But when she asked permission to "have a chat" with the girl, the Dark Lord said absolutely not. "Not in your condition."

Her condition.

She couldn't wait to have His baby and it thrilled her knowing she was carrying a part of Him, co-creating an heir for Him, but what good was the Dark Mark on her forearm if she wasn't able to be a proper Death Eater? There were precious few female Death Eaters and she had been the first. Technically, Narcissa wasn't even one, though she was included in their meetings on account of her home being used as base. The Dark Lord said this was "only polite." So donning the Mark made Bellatrix feel special.

Aside from Bellatrix herself, there were only two other women in His inner circle: Alecto Carrow, a brutish woman who'd repeatedly thrown herself at the Dark Lord during the first war only to be rebuked (though He claimed to appreciate her enthusiasm) and Hortensia Higgins, who was one of the few the Dark Lord did not punish at Little Hangleton after His return, namely because she'd remained faithful to Him despite using her young age (17, a Hogwarts dropout) to evade Azkaban after the Killing Curse backfired. Though Hortensia's Dark Mark wasn't given until after she'd been with Bellatrix in front of the Dark Lord for His viewing pleasure in early 1981, making her the youngest to join the Death Eaters (until Draco), Bella never feared He would desire the girl in the way He did her. He had long made it clear that Hortensia was "immature" and "not (His) type."

There were three other women in His just-outer circle, including Hazel Whitecrest, a white-haired older woman who'd been friends with Lucius' mother, Artemisia Crabbe, Bella's distant cousin through their shared great-grandparents, and, most recent to take the Dark Mark, beautiful Ezzalee Brooklyn, mother of Draco's friend Blaise Zabini, a woman who'd been married (and suspiciously widowed) seven times.

Over fifteen years after His fall and less than three after His second rising, Bellatrix worried constantly that He was getting from someone else what He wasn't getting from her. It could be any one of them, save for Alecto Carrow, who was away at Hogwarts (and ugly as sin).

Hell, it could be her own sister.

Bellatrix could tell Narcissa was keeping something from her. Could it be…?

No. Not Narcissa. She was afraid of Him. It sickened her to even be in the same room as Him. She hated having Him under her roof, even though it should have been an honor.

So not Narcissa… but how much did Bellatrix really know about the others? About Hortensia? About Ezzalee?

Damn it.

It was stupid, giving herself to her husband the way she had.

But she was lonely, longing to be touched, and he was there…

The next day, at their meeting in the dining room of Malfoy Manor, the very room in which they'd tortured and killed former Muggle Studies teacher Charity Burbage, the Dark Lord had talked about His plans for young Luna, held in the basement dungeon, and His belief that Potter and friends would soon seek to speak with Lovegood and could therefore be captured.

What had she said? What had she said that made Him so angry?

She couldn't remember.

She wished she could remember.

Instead, she remembered other things.

In her sleep, she remembered other things.

Being summoned to His chambers that night. Being scolded. The way He'd laughed when she corrected His grammar, the way His eyes had flashed madly when He saw into her mind and discovered what she'd done…

And afterward.

She was stuck in her own head, not entirely asleep but unable to wake, lost in the memory of two night's prior.

He'd grabbed her by the hair. He'd thrown her to the floor.

He'd used His wand to inflict upon her the Cruciatus curse. Three times He tried to torture her this way, and three times she successfully threw it off, just as He'd taught her.

She could see it all, not from the perspective of having lived it, but from outside. In her sleep, she stirred and twitched. She felt like she was back there, as if watching her own memory through a Penseive.

"You dare to throw off my curse?" He asked, pointing His wand directly at her face. "You dare to continue to defy me, your master? Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I think I'm your most loyal servant, my Lord," she said. "But I cannot allow you to use the Cruciatus Curse on me."

"Cannot allow me?" His laugh was high-pitched and gave her chills. "You cannot _allow_ me? You cannot stop me!"

For a fourth time He called out "Crucio!" pointing His wand at her, and for a fourth time, she threw off the curse, though it was getting increasingly difficult.

"If you plan to kill my baby," she said, half-out of breath, glaring defiantly up at Him from the floor, "Use the Killing Curse to take us both out at once. Otherwise, I'll continue fighting back against this torture."

"The baby," His voice went soft, which was scarier than if He yelled. "You're worried about the effects of my curse on the baby. Very well. That's understandable, Bella. Stand. Face me."

Weak-kneed, she stood, set to thank Him and apologize, but before she could say a word, He grabbed hold of the back of her hair, forced her back down to her knees, and struck her across the face with His fist.

"Perhaps I shall remind you of your place without magic." He struck her again. She tasted blood. "Perhaps I shall teach you a lesson the Muggle way." A third time, He hit her. Her eyes filled with involuntary tears she couldn't will away.

"Please, my Lord," she begged, but He laughed.

"How many times, Bella? How many times have I told you, you belong to me! How many times over the years, over the decades? You _belong_ to me."

She refused to speak.

"And always you answer the same. 'I don't belong to anyone.' That's what you tell me, is it not?"

"That's what I tell you," she confirmed. She moved to wipe the blood from her lip but He slapped her hand away, His other hand still entangled in her hair.

"Tell me you belong to me," He demanded. "Say it."

"I will not," she said. "I don't belong to anyone."

"Insufferable, insubordinate woman." This time, His fist connected directly with her eye. The pain was worse than that of the Cruciatus Curse, resonating through her socket into the back of her brain. She felt as though her eyeball had exploded, like her cheekbone had shattered. Still, she refused to say it.

"You belong to me."

"I don't belong to anyone."

Again, He hit her.

"Say it."

Why was she being so difficult? He was her _everything_. Her master, her lover, the only man she'd ever loved, the father of her unborn baby, the Dark Lord to whom she'd been a devoted follower, for whom she had proudly done time in Azkaban. Why, then, was it so impossible to say, "Yes, I belong to you."

She knew why.

Her stepfather was why.

He used to tell all three girls the same thing. After he married their mother. "You're _all_ my girls now," he'd say. "You belong to me."

And she would tell him the same thing she'd later tell the Dark Lord. Even at seven years old, she'd said it.

_"_ _I don't belong to anyone."_

"You weren't supposed to be with Lestrange," said the Dark Lord, pulling her head back so she was facing up at Him. "I made that abundantly clear to you."

"He's my husband," she argued.

"You're a whore," He replied.

"Fuck off," she said.

He chuckled, obviously amused by her strong will. "Fuck off? With pleasure."

Bellatrix yelped with pain as He yanked her to her feet by her hair. He tossed her toward the bed. She hit her knees against the wooden footboard. Before she could straighten up He was behind her, His fingers on the front of her throat. His hardness pressing against her ass.

"I'll teach you to be defiant with me, Bellatrix Black," He said, and for the briefest crazy moment she was comforted by His omission of her married name. The relief was short-lived, however, as He began tearing at her clothing with one hand, increasing the pressure on her throat with the other. She was struggling to breathe. Little white speckles of light began to dance across her field of vision as she realized she would soon be blacking out.

This is where her memories went truly fuzzy.

She remembers coming to with Him on top of her. It hurt, and not in the good way she was used to with Him. She struggled to escape His grasp but He held tighter, pressing His left hand so hard against her inner right thigh she knew it would leave a bruise.

"Please, my Lord," she tried to plead, but it was difficult to get the words out. She clutched His shoulders and attempted to push Him off of her, while only seemed to further enrage and excite Him, as He grabbed her wrists together with one hand and pinned them above her head.

"You little bitch," He hissed, his mouth an inch from her ear. "You've always thought yourself to have a higher status than you do, but you're no better than any of the others. You're _nothing_."

His words cut deeply, causing as much pain in her heart as she felt in her busted face. Despite her desire to continue with her earlier acts of defiance, she felt herself falling apart. She began to cry. He slapped her. She cried harder. He slapped her again.

"Weak!" He admonished. "You're weak." He forced himself deeper inside her.

"Please, stop." She hated this. And what's more, she hated that experiencing this reminded her of all the times she'd done precisely this, or helped Him do this, to the Mudblood women they'd together held captive during the first war. It had seemed relatively harmless at the time. The women were always Muggle-born, after all, hardly worth a second thought, and they were going to be killed directly afterward anyway. But suddenly, and for the first time in her life, she felt guilty about it, about the pain she'd inflicted on them, the pain she'd enjoyed giving them in the moment. "Please, Master. You're hurting me. Please… please stop."

He responded by flipping her over so that her face was pressed against the pillow.

"Quiet," He said. "Your pleading is pathetic."

She was wearing only a slip. She didn't remember Him removing her dress or underwear. He forced the slip up and slid back into her.

"You think you can defy me? Talk back to me? Fuck around on me?"

"He's my _husband_ ," she said weakly, tasting the salt of her tears, which mixed with the dried blood on her upper lip before dripping into her mouth. Again, He responded to this statement with one of the worst insults he could possible lob at her, second only to _"You're nothing."_

"You're a _whore_."

How she hated that word.

She closed her eyes, wishing she could disappear, wondering what He'd do if she attempted to apparate away, knowing that wouldn't work even if she tried, and in a matter of moments she had passed out again.

The next time she awoke, He was off of her. She was vaguely aware of Him in the room, she could hear Him moving and smell Him, and feel Him nearby. She was sore. Everywhere. There was moisture on her thighs and between her legs. Maybe blood. Maybe semen. Maybe both. Her right hand made its way slowly to her midsection. Had there been any damage to the baby?

"My Lord," she whispered into the darkness, terrified of Him and yet prepared to beg Him for aide.

"You're awake." His voice was cold, calculating. "About time."

"My Lord?"

"Return to your own room," He demanded. "I have no desire to see you now."

"My Lord…"

She didn't think she could get up and she certainly could not walk. How long had she been in His chambers? Exactly what – and how much – had He done to her?

"Defying me again, Bella?" He moved to the bed. She flinched as His hand, yet again, made contact with her throat. "I told you to get up and get out."

"I… can't…"

"You can and will."

"I…" She choked back a sob. "I can't."

"Then maybe you haven't learned your lesson," He said. He tightened His grip on her throat, positioning His body over hers.

She shook with silent sobs as He strangled her until lack of oxygen made her lose consciousness.

She didn't awaken again until the next day, Christmas Eve day, in her own bed, beside her husband. Confused. In pain.

She'd told Rodolphus what happened. Told him about the baby. Told him the identity of the baby's father.

And he'd left her.

She was in a terrible state between half-awake and half-asleep, trapped in a living nightmare, unable to open her eyes, unable to drift off. She remembered everything.

She remembered everything, which meant she could no longer deny to herself what Snape had told her. He was right.

She'd been raped.

She'd been raped by the Dark Lord.

She wanted to vomit.

"Bella?" asked a voice from somewhere far away. "Bella, wake up. Bella, you're trembling."

She opened her eyes. Well, her eye. The one good one.

The room was darker. It was past dusk. She was in bed under a quilt with her sister.

"You were crying in your sleep," explained Narcissa. "I decided to wake you. Besides, you need to eat."

"Eat?" whispered Bellatrix, consumed by all she had just seen in her half-asleep state, all she suddenly remembered. "I can't eat."

"You have to," insisted Narcissa. "You have to do what's best for the baby. And what's best for the baby is that you eat. I'll make more soup, okay? How about soup?"

All Narcissa knew how to cook was soup. Some housewife. She was completely unskilled at anything that didn't involve bossing around a house elf.

"Bella?"

"Fine," answered Bellatrix, eager to be alone. "Go make soup and I'll eat it."

"I'll be back shortly." Narcissa kissed her older sister on the forehead and hurried from the room. Bellatrix hugged her arms around herself. Only a minute or two passed before there was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" she called, but her voice was still too weak to carry across the room. She waved her hand, which made the door open a few inches. Draco poked his head in.

"Auntie, can I come in?"

She nodded.

"Harry Potter was nearly captured yesterday," Draco said. This perked Bellatrix up. She pulled herself into a seated position.

"Nearly?"

"He went to Godric's Hollow with Granger – that Mudblood girlfriend of his – to see Bathilda Bagshot."

"Bathilda is dead," said Bellatrix.

"Yes," confirmed Draco. "The… the snake…" (he gave an involuntary shutter) "The snake was possessing her. The Dark Lord almost had him, but he escaped, again, thanks to his friends."

"He'll be angry," she said, terrified of what would presumably have been her Master's reaction to this. "He will want to see someone punished. How did you come by this information, Draco?"

His already pale face went paler. "I… I can't answer that, Auntie."

"Why are you here? To give me information without telling me where it came from? I told you I can't help you with your Occlumency today." They made eye contact and in that instant she bore into his mind, searching for the answer to her question. She was somewhat pleasantly surprised when he forced her out. "But perhaps you don't need continued practice?"

"I was hoping you could teach me to throw off the Imperius Curse," he said. "Not right now," he added hurriedly.

"Perhaps tomorrow. I'd like to teach you the Cruciatus Curse too. Bring a small animal, if you can find one. A mouse would be ideal. I learned on a mouse. I was your age when He taught me."

"Okay…" Draco said slowly, but the thought of finding a mouse so he could use it while learning how to commit torture turned his stomach. As much as he wanted to be like his father and please his aunt and serve the Dark Lord, he had to be honest with himself - he didn't have the disposition for it.

"I wouldn't be bothering you at all, Auntie, but You-Know-Who sent me to bring you this…" Draco held out a square black box, about half the size of a paperback book. "He wants you to open it only when you're alone."

"Thank you, Draco," she said, taking it from him. She placed it beside her on the bed. "Did he say anything else?"

"He asked if you're looking better but I told Him I didn't know, since I wasn't allowed to see you yesterday."

"Is that all?"

Draco nodded. "Sorry."

"How did He… seem? Was He angry?"

Draco didn't answer. He stared down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers. Bellatrix leaned curiously closer to him and he flinched, scooting back an inch. She raised one eyebrow. "Draco? Are you afraid of me?"

"I don't want to upset you," he said.

"With what?"

"There was a meeting last night. Only for select members of His inner circle. It was me, Father, Rodolphus, Rabastan, the Carrows, Snape, Yaxley, and Hortensia."

Bellatrix bristled at the inclusion of Hortensia.

"Mother wasn't even allowed in. Neither was Hortensia's husband."

That's right, Hortensia had recently gotten married. Bellatrix had forgotten. Not that it meant anything. The woman could still be sleeping the Dark Lord. After all, being married hadn't stopped Bellatrix.

"What was discussed at this meeting?"

Draco shrugged, suddenly overly interested in the pattern of the wallpaper. "I'm not supposed to reveal it."

"Did He say anything about me?"

"Only that you had displeased Him and it may be awhile before He could trust you with anything important again."

She clenched her teeth. She bet Snape and Rodolphus and Lucius loved hearing that. Damn it. After all she'd sacrificed for Him, all those years in Azkaban.

"But then He was furious about failing to capture Potter with Nagini. He said if you'd been there beside Him, we'd have Potter now. He said sometimes He thinks you're the only one who even tries."

"He… did?" Her heart gave a little jolt. Maybe all was not lost.

"Then He went round the table one by one and hit us each with the Cruciatus Curse. He said it was a reminder of what will happen if we continue to fail Him. He said He wants Potter delivered to Him before dawn on New Years Day. Then He sent everyone out. When He summoned me a little while ago, I thought it would be about that, something about Potter, but instead He handed me the box and instructed me to give it to you to open only when you're alone. I don't know what's in it. Will you tell Him… that I told you… about the meeting? I couldn't even tell my mother."

"It's alright that you told me," she assured him. "Thank you. You may go."

Draco was clearly content to be dismissed. He hurried from the room without another word. Bellatrix wandlessly locked the door once he was out.

She picked up the black box and held it in both hands, feeling its smoothness, wondering what could be inside. Wondering why He'd sent whatever it was with Draco. Wondering if it was something that would bring her the comfort she craved, or further pain.

She held the box in both hands, wondering if she even wanted to know.


	10. SUMMONED

  **CHAPTER TEN:**

**SUMMONED**

Bellatrix Black Lestrange had long considered herself the Dark Lord's most faithful, most devoted, most capable, and most respected follower. His most valued, most enthusiastic, most talented, and most loyal servant. Others could make the same claim – others did, often – but she knew they were all fighting for second, including that pathetic groveling mess Wormtail and that two-timing probable traitor, Snape. Even Barty Crouch, Jr. had renounced the Dark Lord at his trial after the first war, around the same time Lucius Malfoy's gold kept him from being charged and the Carrows insistence that they'd been under the Imperius Curse kept them out of prison.

She alone had pushed His followers to search for Him.

She alone had insisted upon torturing the Longbottoms for information (and, if she was being honest, for revenge).

She alone called out her devotion to Him during her trial and never once wavered in it, never once pretended to have been anything but a Death Eater, a sadist marked by a touch of insanity, a faithful follower completely in love with the man she called Master.

She hadn't always called Him Master.

The night they met in the pub down Knockturn Alley, when she was reading Magick Moste Evile and He asked to join her, He had given her a different name.

"Riddle. Tom Riddle. But soon the entire Wizarding World will know me only as Lord Voldemort, a name that shall be so feared none will dare speak it."

"Yes, sir," she'd answered, polite and transfixed.

Later, long after it had become unacceptable to say "Voldemort" and she'd switched to calling Him "My Lord," she'd reflect on the fact that her fellow Death Eaters had no knowledge of His birth name. With the possible exceptions of those who remembered Him from Hogwarts, when He first began to gather followers, the Knights of Walpurgis (as they were originally known) were completely unaware that their Master was the same Tom Riddle who'd once received an award for Special Services to the School, which she'd discovered in the trophy room during detention shortly after returning for her seventh year. She had then sought to learn all she could about the boy who would become Lord Voldemort, the leader of a pure blood movement who would capture both her attention and her affection, and, on the eve of their very first encounter, take her virginity.

That first night, the name she'd whispered in His ear at His request was "Voldemort," and it was also the name she cried out when He made her feel the way she never thought possible, not in the arms of a man, not like this.

Now she alternated between calling him "Sir" and "Master" and "My Lord," though every once in awhile (during the first war) He would ask her to call Him Tom. The few times he made such a request always occurred in bed, never in conversation or in passing. And she could never, _never_ use that name without express permission. This much was made abundantly clear.

In turn, He called her Bella, a nickname that had, up until that point, been reserved for usage only by her two younger sisters, started by Andromeda who, until age five or six, couldn't pronounce her Ls or Rs, and therefore called her "Bewwatwix." This trend was continued by Narcissa, who couldn't pronounce her Ls or Rs either, thus chose to call her simply "Bewwa."

"Bewwatwix, watch me!" Andromeda used to call. Then she'd do something stupid, like a wobbly somersault, scramble to her feet, and throw her hands up like a champion, awaiting her score.

"No Bewwa, wattcchhh me!" Narcissa would try to copy, flopping over, pulling herself into a standing position, tossing up her own arms.

"Good job!" Six-year-old Bellatrix would say over and over, half-watching, fighting the urge to roll her eyes after every less-than-impressive little stunt. "Wow, look at you!"

And the littler girls would clap for themselves and rejoice because their big sister thought they'd done something to be proud of. Then they'd do it again. Over and over and over. Each time, begging her to watch, seeking her approval.

It was pathetic.

They were annoying.

So why did she miss Andromeda so much?

And why couldn't she confide in Narcissa?

Bellatrix sighed, running her fingertips over the black box Draco delivered a short time ago. She could only imagine what her mother would say, if she could see her now. They had spoken only once after Bella's arrest.

"You brought shame upon our family," her mother had said. The only reason they'd been permitted a visit was because their mother sat on a very large amount of gold, inherited from her parents, deceased first husband, and tragically murdered second, and she knew exactly how to throw that gold around – not by bribing anyone, no, but by making the right contributions to the right people when it came time for elections to be held or Wizengamot appointments to be made, and she knew those she had helped along the way would help her later, when she needed it, like now.

"Are you a blood-traitor too, Mother?" asked Bellatrix coolly. She was thirty years old, confident in her decision to torture the Longbottoms for information, and certain her Master would return, so she no longer feared the woman who'd brought her into the world.

"You know I'm not," her mother had hissed, eyes darting around to see if the Ministry guards were listening. "I supported His cause, but He was destroyed. Taken down by a baby, for goodness sakes. These are precarious times. Your sister and her husband are struggling to keep our of Azkaban for the sake of their son, our old friends are being sentenced left and right, we all have to pretend we're happy about this 'Boy who Lives' nonsense, and what does my eldest daughter do? Seek a low profile? Attempt to save herself? Drum up some remorse or pretend to have been under the Imperius Curse? No. She runs off with a gang of Death Eaters and tortures into insanity a couple who are – were – very well-liked by Dumbledore and those in charge at the Ministry! Do you ever think about anyone other than yourself, Bellatrix?"

Bellatrix laughed, choosing her next words carefully.

"You don't care about me, Mother. You don't care that I'm going to Azkaban for the rest of my life. You don't care about what awaits me there, the Dementors, the endless years, the inevitable insanity. You care only because by refusing to hide away my true loyalties I've potentially besmirched the family name! You've come not to see that I am well or to convince me to save myself, but to see if there's any way you can save your own reputation! I shouldn't be surprised. You've never been terribly concerned with protecting us girls. Only with keeping up appearances. As long as we appeared to be doing well, that's what mattered, eh?"

"I'm not the problem here, Bellatrix," their mother snapped, gathering up her traveling cloak. "You are. You're selfish."

" _I'm_ selfish? _I_ am selfish? You, Mother!" Bellatrix stood too, squaring off, pointing at her mother, wishing she hadn't been relieved of her wand. "You, Mother! _You_ are selfish! You married a man for money and status and because of his bloodline, you married him a matter of months after Father passed, and you knew what he was doing to us – _you knew_! And you looked the other way for all those years because it was the best thing for _you_! What kind of mother lets her husband have her daughters like that, night after night? Fuck, Mother, Narcissa was practically a baby!"

"Don't use that language with me, Bellatrix." One of the Ministry guards by the door moved forward, wand at the ready, clearly expecting to need to break up a fight. "As for… for what you're implying… he told me the truth. He told me you'd try to fill my head with lies about him. You never liked him, even though he was good to us!"

"He did _awful things_ to us!"

"He says you seduced him!" Her mother's shriek had reached glass-shattering level. There was no way the guards couldn't make out every word. "He says you seduced him and filled the younger girls' heads with the same lies you're trying to put in mine! You've tried convincing me of this nonsense before, Bellatrix. It didn't work then and it will not work now!"

"Go!" Bellatrix pointed toward the door. "Get out. I don't want you here. I'd rather live a thousand lifetimes in Azkaban than spend one more second in this room with you."

"Very well." Her mother fastened her cloak and spend off toward the exit. "But don't expect me to use my connections to try and get you a lighter sentence."

"I don't need your connections," snapped Bellatrix, who was dying to scream out "Avada Kedavra" and be done with this. "I don't need anyone! Mark my words, Mother. Lord Voldemort _will_ be back. Yes – don't look at me that way. I'm not crazy. I'm right! The Dark Lord _will_ rise again! And when He does, He will know that I alone was loyal, that I alone searched for Him, and that I alone refused to sell out my beliefs to avoid prosecution. Throughout my entire life He has been my _only_ protector and my _greatest love_ and someday He and I will rule the Wizarding World together. You'll see!"

The Ministry guards escorted her mother from the room and brought her back to her holding cell. They had so many witches and wizards awaiting trial and so many already in Azkaban that the prison was full, so they'd taken to using this full guarded temporary jail until each could be processed. Bellatrix would be transported in the morning. Aside from the day of her trial, she wouldn't see outside Azkaban's walls again for another fourteen years.

The last conversation with her mother replayed itself in her mind countless times as the Dementors sucked away all of her happiness, as did the many, many memories from her childhood that she'd long ago tried to suppress.

To counteract that, she forced herself to focus on every happy memory she refused to let them take from her. Namely of her various encounters with Him, which were dark enough that passing Dementors couldn't sense they were supposed to be good though it didn't hurt that He had taught her so much about controlling her emotions and locking her mind.

Sure, she supposed she'd gone a _little_ insane during her decade-and-a-half behind bars, but mostly, she was the same person she'd been before… right?

A knock on the door interrupted her brooding. Figuring it was Narcissa back with the soup, she waved the door open. In walked Severus Snape.

"Fuck," she said, rolling her good eye. "You again?"

"I missed you too," he said dryly.

"Why have you returned? Forget something?"

"Only a bit of information your sister insisted I share with you."

"Can't she share it with me herself when she's done making soup?"

Snape leaned back against the closed bedroom door, regarding her carefully. "Not Narcissa."

Now Bellatrix was interested. She sat up straighter, wondering if Snape knew that she'd been in touch with her other younger sister, afraid he might know what Andromeda knew – or, more accurately, terrified he would know _that_ Andromeda knew.

"Her daughter and the werewolf have reunited," said Snape, as if disinterested. "I believe you know that they're expecting."

"Why would Andromeda think I'd care about this?" asked Bellatrix, careful not to give any indication that Snape was correct.

"She sent me with a message for you."

"Yes," said Bellatrix. "When you said you had information my sister insisted you share with me, I figured that meant she sent you with a message. I'm not an idiot."

"You're not?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "News to me."

"Bugger off you big-nosed bat."

"If you don't want to hear it…" began Snape, turning as if to go, Bellatrix stopped him.

"Nonsense. You came all this way."

"All this way from the kitchen," said Snape. "I could just as easily…"

"What's my fucking message?"

He tsked. "So impatient. Fine. Andromeda wants you to know that her daughter and the werewolf have reunited. As you are aware, your niece is pregnant. As you may or may not be aware, your sister is terrified that you seek to murder your aforementioned niece."

"Why shouldn't I?" asked Bellatrix. "That metamorphmagus Mudblood almost murdered my husband the night we took down Mad-Eye Moody. She deserves to die for that alone."

"Your beloved husband," murmured Snape. "Yes, I'm sure you'd have been heartbroken had he succumbed to his injuries."

"That's not the point."

"It so rarely is," said Snape, again leaning suspiciously casually against the door. "In any case, your sister has asked me to inform you that, should anything happen to her daughter and unborn grandson, she would be all-too willing to let slip what you revealed to her on the bathroom floor. She did not, in case you're curious, tell me what this secret is, but she seemed to think you'd be most disinterested in sharing whatever it is with the whole Wizarding World."

"She agreed to shut up about it," said Bellatrix.

"Did she make the Unbreakable Vow?"

"No, but she promised."

He scoffed. "A promise? Cute. Did you lock pinkies?"

"She said she wouldn't tell."

"Perhaps that was before Death Eaters returned to her home."

"What?"

Bellatrix knew Death Eaters had briefly tortured her sister and brother-in-law for information at the end of the summer, but she'd heard nothing about them being sent back. Why would the Dark Lord send anyone else to Andromeda's home – and why wouldn't Bellatrix know about it?

"Yesterday," said Snape. "You were otherwise occupied. They were looking for the werewolf, having just learned of the end of the couple's estrangement. I was among those sent."

"You told me you weren't here yesterday because you had pressing business at Hogwarts!" Bellatrix pointed a finger at him accusingly. He shrugged.

"I did indeed have pressing business at Hogwarts," he said. "I took an hour away from that to call upon your sister, as per our Master's orders."

"Stop calling her my sister. She has a name."

"Mrs. Tonks," Snape corrected.

"Not that name! Call her Andromeda."

"If you wish. I was among those sent to see Andromeda. Dolohov hit her with the Cruciatus curse the moment we were inside her house –"

Bellatrix interjected. "How did you get in? I told… I… she should have protective wards in place."

"She does. Once they were broken and we were inside, Dolohov aimed for her. Your niece – excuse me, Nymphadora – entered then and disarmed him. Hortensia raised her wand -"

Bellatrix cut him off. "Hortensia was there too?"

"Perhaps the Dark Lord thought the task required a woman's _touch."_

Bellatrix scowled. She loathed the way he emphasized 'touch.' "Continue."

"Hortensia raised her wand, but Andromeda said, 'I wouldn't if I were you.' She looked to me, I held up a hand to pause the others, and we waited to hear what she had to say."

Bellatrix leaned forward, even though doing so pained her, and whispered, "What did she have to say?"

"Weren't you listening earlier, you dolt? She said 'should anything happen to my daughter and unborn grandson, let Bella know I would be all-too willing to let slip what she revealed to me on the bathroom floor.' I thought I was perfectly clear."

"What did Hortensia and Dolohov think she meant?"

"I don't think they had a clue, but I did. So I told her we came seeking information concerning the whereabouts of the werewolf. Tonks – Nympadora – assured us that he, like her father, is on the run so they couldn't tell us where to find him even if they wanted to, but she couldn't stop herself from adding that she wouldn't tell us even if she knew. Hortensia and Dolohov were itching to play a little longer, perhaps work out a bit of pent-up aggression, but I told them the Dark Lord would be most displeased should Andromeda make good on her threat, so we left."

Bellatrix was fuming. The Dark Lord had been right. Her 'condition,' and knowledge thereof, made her a weakness for their side. She sent a sideways glance at the black box He'd sent with Draco. Surely knowing this would make Him angry.

"I did not tell this to the Dark Lord," Snape said. He had a knack for knowing what she was thinking, even without exercising his Legilemency skills. "Rather, I advised Nymphadora to stay out of our way, then, before departing, altered the memories of both Hortensia and Dolohov so they believe that we tortured both women for some time."

"Why? And why tell me this now? Why not earlier?"

"I wasn't planning to tell you this at all, as I figured it would only make your blood-lust for your niece greater."

Bellatrix flushed. He was right. The way her sister was choosing to use her secret made her want to inflict pain on both of them, and what better way than by killing young Tonks?

"I've just come from a discussion with the Dark Lord during which He mentioned you," said Snape. Bellatrix shook her head.

"No, you said you were down in the kitchen."

Snape sighed. "I had a discussion with the Dark Lord. When He released me, I felt hungry. I went down to the kitchen briefly, ate, and am now here."

"What did He say about me?"

"He wants you to be the one to do it."

"Do what?"

"Murder Nymphadora Tonks."

Bellatrix's stomach twisted painfully into a pretzel. She was figuratively trapped between a rock and a hard place, so to speak. She couldn't defy a direct order from her Master, but she couldn't risk the world learning her secret either. The only way it could be done would be if she also killed Andromeda. Her own sister. Could she do that? Could she end the very existence of the little girl who used to beg, "Bewwatwix, watch me!" and wait on tenterhooks for the inevitable applause and "good job"?

Yes.

Yes, if she had to, she could.

What was family but blood?

And what good was blood if it wasn't pure?

Certainly, she could take away Andromeda's "Miracle Baby."

And, if she had to, she could take away Andromeda's life.

"I wouldn't," said Snape, again as if reading her thoughts. This time, though, he was staring at her eyes, and she wondered if reading her thoughts was exactly what he'd done.

"Why not?"

"Nymphadora is pregnant. The same sort of magic that protected Harry Potter as a baby might also protect your niece's unborn child. The Killing Curse could backfire on you. We wouldn't want that, now would we?"

She shook her head, disappointed and frustrated. "What of Andromeda?"

"If you were to kill her, surely her daughter would come after you, and then what? Then risk the Killing Curse rebounding? Is that wise… in your condition?"

Her condition.

Damn it.

She was so sick of the words "Your condition."

"I told the Dark Lord that it would not be wise for you to target Nymphadora at this time. He understands and agrees. In His words, 'We shall leave the Metamorph be, for now.' I thought it was necessary to share this with you, though for the record, I do not enjoy meddling in your family affairs."

"Why wouldn't that same magic protect me?" asked Bellatrix. "The Killing Curse could not rebound on me because of… my condition."

"It was love that saved Harry Potter and it would be love that could save Baby Werewolf. Can you say for certain _your_ baby would benefit from the same protection? Is your baby carried in love? Was your baby _created_ through love?"

"None of your damn business," she snapped, but she was bothered by this more than she'd ever admit. Love. Did she love her baby? Yes. Yes, of course. She loved it because she loved Him and it was His and hers together. But was it created in love?

One-sided love, perhaps.

She doubted that would be enough.

"Have a lovely afternoon," said Snape, reaching for the door handle. "I don't expect I'll be seeing you again soon. Shall I send Narcissa up now with the soup? I believe she put onions in it."

"I hate onions," pouted Bellatrix.

"Narcissa says they're good for your eyes."

"What?" Bellatrix let out an exasperated sigh. "No, she's an imbecile. It's carrots that are good for your eyes. Onions are good for shit."

"I thought kale was good for that? Leafy greens are a high source of fiber."

"I didn't mean… damn it, Snape. I meant onions are good for nothing!"

Snape was chuckling at his own joke. Bellatrix threw a pillow at him. It landed about a foot from his feet.

"Whatever she put in it," said Snape, gently tossing the pillow back onto the bed, "Eat it and pretend to like it. She's working very hard to throw together something edible. The least you could do is be grateful."

"Grateful? I'll probably die of food poisoning."

Snape shrugged, still half-smiling. "Well, one could only hope."

Before she could formulate a clever response to that, he had gone.

While waiting for Narcissa and whatever awful concoction she'd brewed (seriously, onions in soup? Unless the soup was French onion soup, onions were never an acceptable soup ingredient, and even then, only the cheese was truly worth eating) she replayed Snape's questions over and over again in her head.

If she were attacked, if her baby were to be attacked, would there be any magical protections?

Was her baby going to be born from love?

Was it created from love?

Hell, could the Dark Lord Voldemort even _feel_ love?

She sighed, closed her eyes, and tried to sleep, but sleep was not forthcoming. Too many thoughts reverberated around in her mind, none of them welcome.

Bellatrix had considered her feelings toward the Dark Lord "love at first sight" (technically, more like "lust at first sight" and "love at first fuck") and thought (well, hoped) that He shared her feelings based on their intense initial connection, but it wasn't until shortly before Christmas of that first year she thought she knew how He felt about her. It was around then, during a Hogsmeade visit she slipped away from to be with Him, that He began asking questions about her past experiences with the opposite sex, wanting to know all about her, informing her that she now belonged to Him and could be with no other.

"I don't belong to anyone," she'd said defiantly, but immediately following her statement she insisted that He was the only one she wanted, needed, or had ever had… willingly.

He, being curious, probed her mind (with permission) using His Legilimency skills, and discovered the most recent incident with her stepfather, which had occurred over summer break. The Dark Lord watched her memory as she walked in on a tall, average-sized middle-aged man with facial stubble kissing and petting a silently sobbing blonde of about twelve or thirteen. Bellatrix flew into a rage and cursed him, a crime of underage magic as she was still two weeks from 17, and he responded by physically taking her wand away.

The man shouted for the little blonde to leave and slapped her when she didn't move fast enough. He then pinned Bellatrix down on the bottom bunk of the bed that had just been vacated by her sister. He groped her, attempting to kiss her neck, but she fought back, digging her nails into his cheeks.

Even though she had yet to study a moment of Occlumency, Bellatrix instinctively attempted to push Him from her mind. The future Lord Voldemort relented, but questioned her thoroughly.

"What did he do to you?"

"That was it," Bellatrix said. "He tried to pull my hands away but then my sister Andromeda came in and started screaming for Mother. When I tried to tell Mother what happened she accused me of attempting to seduce her husband."

(That was only the first of many times their mother made this particular accusation.)

Appearing confused, the Dark Lord sought clarification. "That was your mother's husband?"

"Yes," said Bellatrix, tossing her hair back, hoping it seemed that she was not at all bothered by the fact that He'd just witnessed a slice of a decade of abuse that she never intended to reveal to anyone, least of all Him. "My stepfather."

"No," said the Dark Lord, shaking His head. Damn, He was so handsome then, before war took its toll, before He had become entirely focused on quest to achieve immortality. "No, this won't do. We can't have that. Who was the little blonde? Andromeda?"

She'd previously told Him about Andromeda.

"No, Andromeda is fifteen. That was my youngest sister, Narcissa."

"Narcissa." He hissed her name as if speaking Parseltongue, which gave Bellatrix goose pimples, but not in a bad way. "Where is your stepfather now?"

"At home, I suppose." She stepped away from Him, unwilling to make further eye contact, feeling absolutely humiliated by his knowledge of her greatest secret, her secret shame. "In three days He's supposed to be taking Andromeda Christmas shopping in Diagon Alley. She's dreading it. Mother's forcing her to go."

He stepped to Bellatrix, sliding His arms around her waist from behind, pulling her against Him so her back rested flat against His chest. She could feel His breath on her ear. "In three days. Why isn't she in school?"

"She was sick." Bellatrix hugged her arms around His, happy to be so close. "She nearly died."

"He touches you? All of you?" asked the Dark Lord. Despite the comfort of His arms around her, she could feel fury radiating from Him.

Bellatrix stared straight ahead at the bedroom wall, too ashamed to answer.

"He touches you." This time it was a statement. "Has he done more? Was I your first?"

"You were my first," she confirmed, turning, pressing her chest to His, making eye contact. "He's never raped us. He says he likes that we're virgins."

"You _were_ ," the Dark Lord corrected. "You _were_ a virgin. Now you're mine and I'll not share. I told you that you belong to me, didn't I?"

"You told me."

"That means you're mind. And I don't share what's mine."

Catching a glimpse of the concern on her face, He smiled. "Don't worry, Bellatrix Black. Your master will take care of things."

"Thank you, sir," she whispered.

He tipped her chin up, lightly rubbing His thumb over her bottom lip, then captured her mouth with His own. Then He took her to bed, claimed her as His own, and held her until the sun rose through the curtains. She knew she'd be in trouble for disappearing from Hogwarts overnight, she knew it would likely mean she'd lose the privilege of visiting Hogsmeade and a January full of detention, but she had no regrets.

It was the first time she'd truly felt safe in over ten years.

Twenty-nine years ago He murdered Stepfather in front of Andromeda and in all these years since, Bellatrix never wavered in her devotion. Now suddenly she found herself questioning everything she thought she knew.

She didn't believe Him to be infallible. This was evidenced by the fact that He so vehemently trusted Snape, which she believed was a mistake, no matter what her Master and her sister and her brother-in-law insisted about the former potions master's loyalties, and despite the fact that he'd just today lied to the Dark Lord to protect her (or, perhaps, to protect her niece and sister. With him playing both sides, she couldn't be sure).

She also feared that the Dark Lord's advancing age (he was now a week away from 72) was impacting His decision-making abilities. Why hadn't He killed Harry Potter right away in the graveyard? Immediately after extracting his blood? How had He let the boy escape?

And at the Ministry over a year ago, why had it taken so long for Him to arrive? Sure, at first they were merely battling six teenagers in an attempt to steal a prophecy, but sure He must have known when the Order showed up that they would be outnumbered and potentially over-powered. Where was He? And when He finally arrived, He failed to kill Dumbledore – a fact Narcissa had accidentally blurted out when begging Snape to protect Draco from the task – and He didn't even try to save any of His other loyal followers.

At the time, she'd been pleased by this. Upon His arrival she immediately began to beg forgiveness, and before disapparating away, He grabbed her and her alone to take with Him. That night He'd been furious. Lucius and the others were in Azkaban, everyone knew He was back but not at all in the way He'd planned, and He'd been thwarted yet again by Harry Potter. He was unable to obtain the prophecy, a considerable setback, and He had no one to punish for it, save for her.

But He didn't. To her surprise, He directed His anger toward Narcissa and Draco as wife and son of Lucius, and not toward Bellatrix, who'd actually been one of those who'd failed to complete the task. Instead that night He praised her, saying that she and Severus were the only two He could truly count on. As much as she hated hearing Snape's name listed alongside her own, she was encouraged by His lack of punishment and so she made love with Him for the first time since He'd freed her from Azkaban six months earlier. For a year while her husband, his brother, and her sister's husband were locked up, she lived quite contentedly, spending most nights in the embrace of the Dark Lord.

When the mass exodus from Azkaban occurred a year later, the Dark Lord was thrilled. It signified his control over the Ministry and it also meant He had most of His best servants returned to Him. But secretly, she hated it, because it meant a return to the bed she shared with her husband in a guest room of Malfoy Manor.

And as long as she was thinking about times He'd disappointed her lately, how was it He'd managed to lose Harry Potter yet again when Nagini was possessing Bathilda Bagshot? Two kids against the greatest dark wizard of all time?

A knock sounded. Bellatrix waved the door open. It was Narcissa, finally bringing soup.

"It's got vegetables in it," she said, placing the bowl on her sister's bedside table. She also set down a plate of what smelled like garlic bread. but looked a tad too toasty.

"My cooking gets better all the time," said Narcissa, as if seeking approval, in the same tone she'd used as a girl when pleading _Watch me!_ "I practice in the kitchen whenever Lucius is out." Lucius did not believe his wife belonged in the kitchen. Cooking was the work of house-elves and commoners. "I'll leave you alone to eat. I have to go to Christmas dinner with Lucius and Draco and… and possibly You-Know-Who, should He join us. But I'll be back after dessert."

"Thank you," said Bellatrix. Even the dutiful big sister, she added, "It looks good."

Narcissa smiled, partially pleased and partially relieved, then kissed Bellatrix on the forehead. "Have a house-elf fetch me if you need anything."

"I'll be fine," Bella assured her. It was the truth. The healing salve and potion for her throat seemed to be working, speaking wasn't as difficult or painful as it had been hours earlier, and though her head was a jumbled mess, there was an odd sort of peace in knowing she'd be sleeping alone, since Rodolphus was bunking with his brother.

After Narcissa made her exit, Bellatrix looked longingly at the black box, unwilling to give into the temptation of opening it, unsure how long she could hold off from doing so.

As she ate, a different memory implanted itself in her brain. A happy one.

The first night they were together after He'd broken her out of Azkaban nearly two years ago.

"I've missed you," He hissed against her earlobe, just before His thin-lipped mouth and snakelike tongue began making its way from the side of her neck, down her clavicle, to the top of her breast, to the lace of her corset. She moaned as He touched her. It had been fourteen years since she'd last been touched by Him.

Though she was desperate for Him and sensed it was mutual, He seemed to be in no hurry to undress her, instead taking His time as if He needed to relearn every curve of her body. By the time they were naked, she was writhing uncomfortably against Him, needing Him, practically begging Him.

"Please, please, take me, my Lord…"

"Patience," He'd whispered. "I want to enjoy you."

He entered her first with His fingers as she dug her fingernails into His back, again begging Him to take her. He laughed.

"Still my Bellatrix," He said. "So wanton. Have you missed me?"

"Every moment, my Lord. I looked for you. I alone…"

"You alone knew I would return. You alone never wavered in your loyalty."

"Never, never my Lord. I knew you would… I knew you… would…"

As He sped up the motion with His fingers, she found it increasingly difficult to utter a coherent thought. With the hand that was not scratching across His shoulder blades, she stroked His length, faster and faster.

"Fuck," He said, an unusual (Muggle-esque) word for Him. He grabbed her thighs, parting them, and plunged into her without further foreplay.

"Yes, yes... my Lord, yes..."

"My Bella," He moaned into her thick, unkempt hair. "Mine."

"Yes," she replied over and over in between kissing His neck, His shoulder, His cheek, kissing Him though she was hardly able to breathe. "Yes… yes…"

He slid one of His hands back down and played with her as He fucked her. She felt her orgasm building, the first one in over fourteen years, and the anticipation made her dizzy. He kissed her and she felt the overwhelming waves of satisfaction ripple over her, nearly bringing her to tears. He finished a moment later, never slowing His stride, and, like always, rolled onto His back, pulling her to rest on top of Him, and said, "You belong to me."

She couldn't say it. She couldn't say "Yes." But she also couldn't say "No." So instead, she placed a kiss in the direct center of His chest and answered, "I love you."

He didn't say it back, but that was okay. She felt loved.

Her soup finished (she couldn't even recall tasting it) Bellatrix picked up the small black box. Whether it would bring her joy or pain no longer mattered. She needed to know what was inside.

She slipped off the top.

Inside, a smaller box.

She opened that one.

Resting atop cloudy gauze, was a thin silver band.

A ring.

Her heart fluttered in that uncomfortable way it had taken to doing lately.

A ring?

But she was married.

And He'd always said…

She removed it. It felt cold to the touch, but made her fingers, hand, and arm go warm. It was thin and silver with one large green stone flanked by two smaller green stones – they looked like emeralds. Silver and green: Slytherin colors, of course.

Inside the top of the second box were six words: _I do not enjoy hurting you_.

As close to an apology as she would ever get.

She held the ring up, wondering whether she should put it on, wondering on which finger she should wear it and what to say if anyone asked about it. A reflection in the band caught her eye. There was an inscription.

She read it twice. The first time, she laughed. The second, she nodded.

Inside the ring in thin script, it said, "You belong to me."

Unable to collect her thoughts, she slipped the ring onto her right ring finger. It was a perfect fit. Once it was on all the way, she felt a new tingling sensation, this time in her opposite forearm. Her Dark Mark was raised and visible. She alone was being summoned. She stood, which wasn't easy, and quickly combed her fingers through her tangled hair. The Dark Mark burned deeper, almost painfully. He wanted her. He needed her. She needed to go to Him.

Now.

 _You belong to me,_ it was etched inside the ring.

Yes.

As much as she tried to deny it, as long as she tried to deny it, it was true.

"Yes, my Lord," she whispered, hovering the tip of her wand above her forearm. "I belong to you. Forever."

She touched the tip of her wand to the Mark and disappeared.


	11. INTRODUCTION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a citrus-filled (aka, smutty) flashback to when Bellatrix met the Dark Lord, which is described a little bit in Chapter 5 when she told Andromeda about it. The next chapter, which has more plot and is not in flashback, will likely be posted on Wednesday or Thursday, but I can't promise as this week and next are the last two weeks of school for the kiddos so I'm pretty busy. Thanks! -AL

**CHAPTER ELEVEN:**

**INTRODUCTION**

They met in a tiny, dingy pub down on Knockturn Alley.

Late August, 1968.

She was wearing a low-cut corseted dress, drinking firewhiskey, and reading Magick Moste Evil. She was, generally, not paying any mind to anyone else in the crowded pub, and especially not paying attention to any man who tried to pick her up or buy her a drink.

He was wearing a gray Muggle suit under his Wizard's robes, which He hated, but it was necessary as he'd had business in London earlier in the evening. He was in a bad mood because a contact He'd hope would turn into a new follower had most unfortunately fallen through.

He was instantly attracted to her. It might have been the way her dress clung to the curve of her breasts or the untamed wildness of her black curly hair or the stark contrast of it against the bare alabaster shoulders against which it fell. It might have been her deep-set, heavy-lidded eyes, darting back and forth across the page as she drank in every word. It might have been pout of her lips, accented by Merlot-colored lipstick. It might have been the choice of drink for a witch so young, or it might have been that she was reading a restricted book of dark magic right out in the open as if it were the Daily Prophet.

But if He was being completely honest, He would have to say that that _most_ attracted Him to her was the arrogant air about her. Before she'd even spoken or looked at Him, He could discern that she thought she was better than anyone else in the room. He wanted to know why. He wanted to prove her wrong... or let her prove him right.

So He sat across from her.

"I'm not looking for friends," she said, one eyebrow raised, but not looking up from the page.

"Neither am I," he said as if bored by her presence. "I need a place to sit. Nothing more."

"In that case…" she gestured to the chair beside her. 

She stole glances at him over her book as he sipped his drink - elf made bourbon.

Eventually they began to talk.

"Are you a student?"

"Yes. Hogwarts, seventh year." Still, she did not look up from the book. "Slytherin."

"I was in Slytherin." He fingered the large, ornate ring on his middle finger, the one that had belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself. "Is Dumbledore still Deputy Headmaster?"

"He's Headmaster now."

"Vile, a Muggle-lover in charge of our youth. I hope he hasn't poisoned your brain with that coexistence rubbish."

Now he had her attention. She did not set her book down, but she did make eye contact. "My family belongs to the Sacred 28. Not a drop of dirty blood in over seven centuries of record keeping. If Dumbledore and his ilk had it their way, we'd all be mating with Muggles."

He half-smiled. She was even more attractive than He'd initially realized.

He launched into His usual spiel, the one reserved for those he suspected sympathetic to His cause, but tailored it more specifically to her as a young woman than He would to the men with whom He typically interacted. Rather than speak of power and violence and control, He spoke of rights and usurpation and restoration. Finally, she folded down the page of her book and set it on the table. Her vision tunneled, and soon it was as thought they were the only two people in the pub. Perhaps the only two people in the world. 

He found He wanted this girl – and she _was_ just a girl – and as His promises of domination over Muggle-borns and the eradication of Mudbloods excited her, He found Himself getting excited too… in a different way. Though He was a good-looking and charming man, He'd always been, it had been some time since He last found a woman He was interested in bedding. Sure, He fucked around. There was no shortage of willing women. But He wanted to take this girl, to claim her, to hear her beg for Him… He wanted to pleasure her and gain her full devotion to Him. He wanted her to be willing and eager but He also wanted her to present a challenge, not to throw herself at Him.

She nodded vigorously. She rubbed his forearm. She twirled her hair and smiled at him. 

He bought her more liquor. He touched her knee. He told her He wanted to get to know her better.

She asked him how she could join His cause, how she could make a difference. 

He took her upstairs to the room He was renting.

Once the door was closed, He kissed her. Roughly. No pretense, no warning. 

She responded, parting her lips, granting His tongue entrance, pressing her upper body against His. He felt a familiar tug in His groin. That was all it had taken – all she'd had to do was return His kiss and close the space between them, and He was hard.

"Are you a virgin?" He growled in her ear. He wanted her to be a virgin. He wanted to take that from her.

"Yes," she whispered, and without Legilimency He was sure she was telling the truth.

"It's going to hurt," He warned.

"Good," she said, looking straight into His eyes. "I like pain."

This, He could tell, was a lie, but it was only His ability to read minds and emotions that told Him as much, and the fact that she would say it when it wasn't true only excited Him more.

"You will," He assured her. He grabbed her by the upper arm and threw her down toward the bed. She landed with her knees on the floor and the mattress pressing against her midsection. Before she could re-position herself to be facing Him, He was behind her, grinding against her ass, one of His hands making its way to her chest.

"You're going to do as I tell you," He said, squeezing her breast, thrusting His hardness against her through their clothes. "If I tell you to open your mouth, you'll open it. If I tell you to spread your legs, you'll spread them."

"Fuck off," she said, despite being weak-kneed with want for Him. "I don't take orders from anyone."

This made Him smile. She was perfect. Precisely what He'd been looking for.

"You'll take orders from me and you'll like it."

"If I want you in my mouth, I'll open my mouth. If I want you between my legs, I'll…"

"Trust me," He growled, His mouth barely a breath away from her ear. "You'll want me between your legs."

He continued to caress her breasts with His hands, grinding against her, while His lips and tongue made their way from just under her ear to her neck to her shoulder. He bit and kissed and sucked at her skin and she felt her resolve waning even further as, for the first time, her body ached for the touch of a man.

"Am I making you wet?" He asked in response to her desperate squirming. He rubbed between her legs with one hand. She clenched her teeth, refusing to give Him the satisfaction of knowing she liked what He was doing. "Well?"

"You're alright," she said.

He laughed, stood, and grabbed her by the wild curls on the back of her head. He forced her to turn, still on her knees, and undid his Muggle trousers.

"Have you done this before?" He asked as he freed His hard cock from the confines of His clothes.

"No," she answered. (This, too, was a lie.)

"Open your mouth," He demanded.

She raised an eyebrow. "What if I don't want to? What if I say no?"

"You don't want to say no," He said. "And if you're good at this, I'll be good to you."

She stared up at Him, dark eyes flashing but narrowed, pupils dilated, torn between the desire to please him and be pleased by Him and her inherent need to fight back and win, no matter the battle. After a pause, during which He remained still and unspeaking, she took Him in her hand and began to stroke. He smirked. She was smart, He'd give her that. By doing this, she was neither complying with His request nor denying Him what He wanted.

She was strong-willed. Attractive. Young. A fighter. Unafraid of pain.

Yes.

She was precisely what He'd been looking for.

She flicked out her tongue like a snake, barely making contact with the head of His manhood, teasing Him, torturing Him. To His surprise, He found He liked it.

Finally, she took Him in her mouth, licking His shaft, sucking hard, still stroking Him with her hand. For a girl who claimed no experience, she certainly seemed to know what she was doing.

He hadn't intended to let this act result in His completion but as she sped up the movements of her mouth and hand, He could feel Himself getting close. Still holding tightly onto the back of her hair, He forced Himself deeper into her throat, making her gag as He thrust, and then withdrawing almost entirely, over and over. When He pulled out again, she took the opportunity to suck harder on His tip, still stroking with her hand, and that was when He lost control. He came in her mouth and to His pleasant surprise, she swallowed Him, moaning just as He was, happy to have pleased Him.

Using her hair to do so, He pulled her into a standing position. They made eye contact for a long, silent moment. He expected to see what He usually saw in the eyes of women He was bedding for the first time, especially virgins: insecurity. Fear.

But insecurity and fear did not exist in the expression of this girl. This woman. She'd told Him she was seventeen, which meant she was of age in the Wizarding World, though she was still a student at Hogwarts – which might prove to be of value to Him, too. He smiled.

"I was good at that," she said, as if challenging Him. "You said, in exchange, you'd be good to me. Are you the sort of man who keeps up His end of a bargain?"

"On the bed."

She crawled on and positioned herself on her knees, hands on her hips, facing Him. "What now?"

He took her chin between His thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up, and, much more gently than He usually would, He kissed her. Again it was she who parted her lips first, exploring His mouth with her tongue, nipping lightly at His lower lip, her hand on the back of His head under His hair.

"Have you done this with many boys?" He asked, moving His hands to her breasts, moving his mouth to her chest, flicking His tongue against her nipple under the fabric of her corset.

She half-smiled, head tossed back, enjoying the sensation. "Boys? No."

He looked her over quizzically. "Girls?"

"I get what I need," she said.

He felt a painful twinge in His groin. Damn, she was good.

He began unlacing the back of the corset, but she stopped Him.

"It's a real bitch to re-lace, but there are hooks in the front. See?" She undid the first three. "And so on…"

"Exquisite." He undid the rest, exploring her chest with His mouth and fingers as He did so, until the corset part of the dress was completely open but still attached to the skirt. He threw her roughly backward onto the mattress and yanked the dress down her legs, leaving her wearing only her knickers and thigh-high nylons, both black.

He took her breast in his mouth, alternating between licking and sucking her nipple, scraping His teeth over it, which made her moan. Unable to stop Himself, He bit down hard on her breast, leaving the imprint of His teeth in her skin, sure to bruise. To His pleasant surprise, instead of intimidating her, this made her cry out and arch her back, her hand entangled in his hair, longing for more.

"You liked that?" He asked.

"I like a lot of things I shouldn't," she answered.

Feeling bold, she began unbuttoning His shirt, wanting to feel His bare skin against hers. She became impatient as her fingers fumbled with the buttons so she gave up and simply pulled, ripping it away from His body, causing several of the buttons to pop clean off.

"A wanton little slag, aren't you?" He asked.

"I'm not a slag," she said, ceasing her caress of his bare chest.

Not at all sorry, but wanting her to resume that lovely tickling of his sensitive skin with her sharp nails, he apologized. "Tell me what you need."

"I need you to touch me," she said, apparently forgiving him that word. "I need to touch you."

"I'm going to hurt you," He warned, echoing His words from earlier.

"Good." She dug her long, sharp fingernails into the backs of His now-bare shoulders. "Do it."

He did not need to be told twice. He slid His hands up her soft pale arms, moving them above her head, stopping at her wrists. Holding them both in one of His hands, He pinned her down. His other hand moved to between her legs, inside her knickers, rubbing her. He slid one finger into her, then another, and began to thrust, enjoying the realization of how wet He was indeed making her. While He fucked her with His fingers, His mouth moved back to her neck, which He kissed and bit, eliciting a gasp from her. When He withdrew them, He put them in His mouth, sucking them off, then kissed her, taking her lower lip into His mouth, biting down on it, drawing blood. Again the pleasure of it made her cry out, which made His arousal grow. She ran her tongue over the cut, enjoying the metallic taste, wanting to do the same to Him, but her teeth met air as He pulled away.

"Is that all?" she asked defiantly, her eyes clouded over with desire. "I thought you promised to hurt me."

He smirked, stood, and fully removed the Muggle trousers, then retrieved His wand from the pocket of His robes and pointed it at her.

"As you wish. Crucio!"

The curse He hit her with wasn't very powerful, which was intentional. He was trying to make a point, not torture her into insanity. But to His shock, she twitched for only a second then seemed to throw it off.

"Is that all you've got?" she taunted. "Oh, darling, you have to really _mean_ it. You have to really _want_ to cause pain. Do you _want_ to cause me _pain_?"

His eyes narrowed. He wasn't sure how to react to this. He did not enjoy being mocked, and yet… he almost did enjoy it. He pointed His wand again.

"Crucio!"

This time, her body writhed against the sheets. She squeezed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, and forced herself to stop feeling it.

"That was better," she said. "But I believe we've had a miscommunication. I thought you intended to _hurt_ me."

"You combative little cunt," He said, but His tone told her He was amused, not angry. He climbed back onto the bed, using a nonverbal spell and a swish of His wand to bind her wrists, and tied them to the bedpost. He then ran the tip of His wand from her bound wrists, down her arms, to the center of her chest, between her breasts, to her belly button, down her flat lower abdomen, and finally to her center. He pressed it against her and for one frantic moment she wondered if He was going to put it inside her, but He, sensing her fear, uncharacteristically retreated, pulling it back by about two inches. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Crucio."

This time, the pain was complexly concentrated in that one area, but given how worked up she was, it sent every nerve in her body into a frenzy. She bucked her hips against the air, struggling against the binding on her wrists, trying to arch her back, and cried out, as her orgasm overwhelmed her despite the fact that it did, unquestionably, hurt.

When both the pain and her pleasure had subsided, she stared up at Him, breathing heavy.

"Damn," she said weakly.

"You've learned to fight back against the Cruciatus," He said, removing the binding on her wrists, allowing her to sit up.

"Yes," she confirmed, tossing her hair arrogantly. "And I can throw off the Imperius completely."

"I'm impressed."

Though she tried not to let on, this praise from the man who would become her Master pleased her almost as much as their physical encounter had thus far.

"What's next?" she asked.

"You might be too much for me," He said offhandedly.

She laughed.

"You're teasing me. I doubt anything is too much for you."

"Open your mouth."

Again He thrust himself into her, making her gag at first. He thrust again and again, at least a half-dozen times, then He pulled away and, now completely hard again, he concentrated on bringing her pleasure - which was rarely his goal when with a woman, but with this woman, it felt different. He rubbed against her clit with His tip, which elicited several desire-inspired moans, as His tongue returned to her breasts.

"Lick me," she ordered. "Down there. Do it."

He raised an eyebrow. He couldn't recall ever having been with such a demanding woman.

"Are you certain you're a virgin? I am an exceptionally skilled Legilimens. If you're lying, I'll know."

"If you're as exceptional at Legilimency as you claim, you'd have known whether I was lying the first time I answered your question."

"Bitch!" Keeping one hand on His hardened member poised at her entrance, the other moved to her throat. "You dare to doubt me?"

"I'm a virgin," she insisted, lying but showing no fear. "Care to change that?"

"Not yet," He said, releasing her neck. "I believe you had a request…"

He moved His mouth down, positioning Himself between her legs, and worked His tongue over her clit and between her folds. Her wrists were still bound above her head but her lower half writhed as she struggled to keep self-control. Upon her second orgasm of the evening, He ceased, roughly spread her legs wider, hands on her thighs, and, without spoken warning, thrust into her.

She cried out, unprepared for the pain, which was, of course, very different from the Cruciatus but in some respects hurt more because she could not will it away. With a wave of His hand, the binding around her wrists Vanished, and immediately she wrapped her arms around Him, digging her fingernails into His back, which He liked.

He rode her hard, giving no consideration to the fact that this was (she claimed) her first time, and when He felt Himself getting close to the edge He flipped them so that He was on His back and she was on top of Him.

"Move your hips like this," He instructed, using His hands on her thighs to show her what to do. "Faster. Harder. Yes… yes… fuck… yes…"

He reached up and grabbed her bouncing breasts, pulled her forward, and took one into His mouth as she continued to grind on top of Him.

Again when He felt He was close, He stopped, this time pulling out, flipping her onto her stomach, and forcing her into a kneeling position. He entered her again, placing one hand on her shoulder to control His thrusts, and rubbing her center with the other.

Now she was the one crying out. "Yes! Yes, please… yes… don't stop…"

He leaned forward, bit down even harder on her shoulder than He had on her chest, and that was enough for Him. He exploded inside her. When completely spent, He rolled onto His back on the mattress, making no attempt to touch or hold her, which was fine as far as she was concerned. Her brain was fuzzy, neurons firing at random and all over. She was out of breath, feeling both heady and dazed.

"You're seventeen?" He asked.

"I am."

He nodded slowly, as if taking in this information was difficult.

"You're seventeen and, until today, a virgin, but you're more than capable in a bedroom than most of the grown witches I've had."

"Yes," she agreed, even though she didn't know whether that was true or not. Her self-confidence made Him smile.

"Who are you?"

"Who do you think I am?" She rolled onto her side to face Him. He continued to stare up at the ceiling.

"You're a seventeen-year-old former virgin. You've quite possibly been with both boys and girls. You are fascinated by the Dark Arts, thus you were reading Magick Moste Evil whilst sitting alone in a pub, not looking for friends, as you so eloquently informed me. You can fight against the Cruciatus, and you can throw off the Imperius, but you've never killed – I can sense that you've never killed. From what you've told me, your family belongs to the Sacred 28. You believe in blood purity and putting Muggles back in their rightful place, you have two younger sisters, you're about to start your last year at Hogwarts, and you enjoy both inflicting and receiving pain."

"All of that is accurate," she said.

He nodded again. "But just who _are_ you, really?"

She was still reeling and lightheaded from this first genuine consensual sexual experience and all that preceded it, but determined to appear cool and collected, she replied, "I'm no more or less than a capable witch who wants to join your cause. Let me be a Death Eater. Let me take the Dark Mark."

"I knew you would want to," He said, smiling. "Bellatrix Black, I knew from the moment I saw you that you were going to be one of us."


	12. BREECH

**CHAPTER TWELVE:**

**BREECH**

  
  
Lucius and Narcissa were lying side by side in bed, reading, when a pounding on the door made both of them jump. Lucius rose to open it, expecting to see anyone but the one who stood before them.

“Lucius,” hissed the cold voice of the Dark Lord, “I require the presence of your wife.”

“Uh… Narcissa?” called Lucius, though he hadn’t needed to. She could hear.

“Is… is something wrong, my Lord?” Narcissa struggled to clear herself of thoughts and emotions, terrified he would sense her dissipating loyalty. To her relief, he did not seem interested in probing her mind, at least not at the moment. He glared at her through red-slitted eyes.

“Your sister seems to be in labor.”

“How can she be? It’s too early! She’s due… we approximated April eighth! She’s only…” Narcissa quickly did the math in her head. “About 35 weeks along.”

“Your sister seems to be in labor,” repeated the Dark Lord. “She’s calling for you. She is in her bedroom.”

“I’m not ready! I don’t know… I don’t know how to deliver a baby! I… I thought we’d have more time!”

“I will summon Severus,” said the Dark Lord, sounding calm, almost bored. Narcissa nodded, but she had her doubts that Severus would know what to do either – he had even less experience with such matters than Narcissa did. And aside from that one time Bella mentioned wanting her sister there when she gave birth, no one had ever talked about the eventual birth at all. How was such an oversight even possible?

“I’ll go to her,” said Narcissa, steeling herself, still working to keep her mind clear. “I’ll consult with Severus when he arrives.”

“Very well,” said the Dark Lord. He disapparated.

“I’ll wait here,” said Lucius unnecessarily.

Narcissa hurried to her sister’s room. The door opened to her before she raised her hand to knock.

“Cissy?”

“Yes, Bella, I’m here.”

“Cissy…” Bellatrix’s voice sounded small, almost scared. “The pain started this morning, but it wasn’t so bad. I read a book about pregnancy. It said women can have… can have false labor pains, contractions, like false labor, for a month or two before… before it happens.” She was taking slow, deep breaths every few words. “I thought that’s what this was. Now… I think I was wrong. I think my water broke. I think these are real contractions. They hurt, but not bad as the Cruciatus. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“That’s good, Bella. You’re so calm.”

“I _am_ calm,” agreed Bella, but her eyes were wide and fearful. “You can help me, can’t you, Cissy? You can…” Deep breath. “You can make sure it… comes out… the way it should?” Deep breath. “You’ll make sure… that it won’t… die? That _I_ won’t die?”

“Yes, I promise,” said Narcissa. “And Sev– uh, Snape is on his way here. The Dark Lord summoned him. Maybe… maybe he’ll know what to do.”

Bella’s heavy-lidded eyes narrowed.

“The fuck would Snape know about women’s health? He’s a man. Men don’t know. Men are idiots.”

“He _might_ know.” Narcissa headed toward the bathroom in search of towels, wondering what else she might need.

“Cissy! Don’t leave me alone!”

“I’m right here. I won’t leave you.”

By the time Severus Snape arrived, led to the room by the Dark Lord, Bellatrix was in more pain, the contractions were coming closer together, and she was no longer quite so calm nor in control.

“How are you feeling?” Snape asked upon entering.

“Fuck you, sod off, I hope you die.”

Snape turned to face Narcissa and the Dark Lord. “She’s her usual pleasant self, I see.”

“Bite me!” she shrieked. She writhed against the bed, clutching the comforter, as another contraction overwhelmed her.

Severus smirked. “Tut, tut, Bellatrix. Didn’t you mother ever teach you, if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all?”

Bellatrix grabbed a pillow and gripped it against her stomach, in so much pain she thought she might explode. She was in no mood for a lecture on manners. “Go to hell, you overgrown bat!”

“Hush, Bella,” said the Dark Lord. “Severus is here to help you.”

“You can go to hell too, _Master_ ,” spat Bellatrix, her last word dripping with disdain. Narcissa’s breath caught in her throat. Surely the Dark Lord would punish her sister for this disrespect? But to her surprise, He laughed.

“Inform when it’s over.” He disapparated.

Narcissa closed the door as Snape attempted to ‘examine’ Bellatrix by placing a hand on the furthest protruding part of her belly. He shrugged.

“I know nothing of childbirth,” he confessed to Narcissa. “You’ll have to tell me what to do.”

“I don’t know what to do,” said Narcissa. “I had Draco over seventeen years ago and all I really remember is having to push.”

“Okay,” he said. “Bellatrix, try that.”

“What, pushing?”

“No!” said Narcissa. “First, let’s change you. You can’t give birth in that dress. Don’t you have a nightshirt or something?”

Bellatrix pointed toward her dresser, which opened on its own.

“I’ll help you,” said Narcissa. She looked pointedly at Snape, who turned his back and promised not to peek.

“I couldn’t care less if you did,” said Bellatrix. “You’ve seen me undressed before.”

“If you are referring to last December,” said Snape slowly, aware that Narcissa’s gaze was now drilling into his back, “I assure you, I looked at you as little as was humanly possible without neglecting your injuries completely.”

“Yeah, right!” She tossed her hair, adding arrogantly, “You know you looked at me and you know you liked it.”

“You flatter yourself, Lestrange.”

“I’m more attractive on my worst day than any other woman you’ve ever seen on her best.”

“On the contrary, I’ve seen better in the last week than you’ve looked ever in your life.”

(Narcissa’s cheeks went red.)

“In your pathetic fantasies, perhaps.” Bellatrix smirked. Fighting with him was a welcome distraction. It almost made the pain bearable. “Precisely how many women have you had, Snape? Two? Three? Or am I being too generous?” She sniggered. “Admit it, Sevvy. Even _I’ve_ got more experience with women than you do.”

“That’s probably true,” he conceded. “But I am a firm believer in quality over quantity.”

As they argued, Narcissa, trying her best to ignore them, helped Bellatrix remove her dress and put on the medium-length, plain white nightdress. She interrupted their barb-trading just as Bellatrix asked Snape whether he still missed his dead ginger Mudblood girlfriend.

“Shut it, both of you! You’re worse than children. I’m trying to concentrate.”  
            “I hurt, Cissy,” whined Bellatrix, forgetting her ongoing battle with Snape for the moment. “Fix me.”

“Okay, well… Okay. Bella, can you feel its head, or…?”

“What the hell do you mean _can I feel its head?”_

“I don’t know, Bellatrix!” exclaimed Narcissa, exasperated. “I’ve never done this before!”

“Isn’t it early?” asked Snape, pacing, with no idea what to do next, or what to expect. “I thought she was due in April.”

“Yes, it’s early,” Narcissa answered. She allowed Bella to take her hand, which she almost immediately regretted, as another contraction hit.

“Fuck-fuck-shit-fuck!” shouted Bellatrix, mangling her sister’s fingers in her grasp.

“Ouch! Let me go!” wailed Narcissa. “I think you broke my fingers!”

“I have an idea,” said Snape. “Narcissa, you’re good with an Obliviate charm, right?”

“You know I am.”

“If I brought someone here who could deliver this baby properly, could you Obliviate her afterward? It would need to be a strong enough charm to erase all memory of the labor and delivery, but not strong enough to do permanent harm. Could you do it?”

Narcissa shrugged. “Don’t see why not. I never caused Andromeda permanent harm.” Bellatrix smiled despite the pain, remembering how her baby sister used to practice the memory erasing charm on their middle sister. Sometimes with good reason, sometimes just for fun.

“Good. I’ll be back,” said Snape. “Just… wait. Don’t move.”

“Oh, sure,” snipped Bellatrix. “I’ll just wait. Nothing better to do but fucking wait. And what do you mean, ‘don’t move’? Where in the world would I go? Shit, it’s happening again. Cissy, give me your hand!”

“No way!” Narcissa handed Bellatrix the pillow she’d been gripping before. “Squeeze this!”

It was forty minutes that felt like forever before Severus returned, a terrified looking Poppy Pomfrey in tow. By this time it was clear something was wrong. Bellatrix was in excruciating pain, so much so she swore she couldn’t stand it, surprising considering her high threshold for (and general enjoyment of) pain.

“I’m dying,” she cried, tears streaming liberally down her cheeks. “I’m dying, I’m dying, I’m dying.”

“This is Bellatrix Lestrange?” whispered Madam Pomfrey from the doorway. “I’ve heard of her...”

“She won’t hurt you,” Snape assured Poppy, even though he wouldn’t be surprised to learn this was a lie. Poppy took two steps closer to the bed, then hesitated.

“Severus speaks the truth,” said a high, cold voice from behind them. Poppy whipped around, feeling her terrified heart turn to ice as she came face to face with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

“Lord… You.”

“Bellatrix will not hurt you,” He assured Madam Pomfrey. “But _I_ may. If you wish to keep yourself alive, keep her alive. If she dies, you die. Understand?”

“Yes… yes, sir,” Poppy said, struggling to keep her hands steady. She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, released it slowly, and went into mediwitch mode. “Let me examine her. You may go, Severus. And you, too, Lord… Lord Vol… Sir. But her sister should stay.”

It didn’t take long for Madam Pomfrey to determine the problem. “The baby is backward. I’ll have to turn him.”

“Her,” corrected Bellatrix. “I’m certain it’s a her.”

“Sorry,” said Madam Pomfrey. “I’ll try to turn her. I’ll have to use my hands. This is too precise to use magic, too much can go wrong. And it may be too late – once a woman’s water has broken…”

“Fine, whatever,” interjected Bellatrix, clutching Narcissa’s already-injured hand, involuntary tears squeezing out of her eyes. “Do what you have to.”

Before becoming Hogwarts’ nurse, Poppy Pomfrey worked as a midwife, thus she had an abundance of baby delivering experience, but it had been a long time and she had never had to do so under such duress – never with You-Know-Who over her, never when the one giving birth was best known as a sadistic murderer.   

“Please,” Madam Pomfrey said, glancing back toward Severus Snape and the Dark Lord. “Having you stare at me like that doesn’t help. I said you could go. Wait in the hall. I know what I’m doing and I will do my best.”

This time they exited, shutting the door behind them.

“Summon me using your Dark Mark only in an emergency,” the Dark Lord ordered Snape in the hall. “Otherwise do not contact me until the baby is born.”

Snape nodded. The Dark Lord disapparated.  

Narcissa had assumed when the nurse said she’d try to turn the baby that she would have to reach inside Bellatrix, but instead Poppy Pomfrey performed a quick spell (“to relax the womb”) then set down her wand, lifted Bella’s nightshirt to rest just under her breasts, and massaged her swollen belly. After several minutes, she cursed, picked up her wand again, and muttered an incantation. Purple light emitted from the tip of the wand.

“It _is_ too late. We have two options, Mrs. Lestrange. I can cut you open and remove the baby that way, or you can attempt to birth the baby while she’s breech.”

“The fuck does that mean?” asked Bellatrix. “Breech? Backwards? Feet first?”

“Yes.”

“Or you’ll cut me open?”

“I’ll use a knife to make an incision here…” Madam Pomfrey pressed a finger to the spot where she’d begin cutting. “To about here…”

“No!” shouted Bellatrix. “You can’t cut me open! You can’t! Don’t, please, Cissy, don’t let this psychotic bitch cut me!”

Narcissa kissed the back of her sister’s hand. She’d never seen Bella looking so afraid before.

“She’ll try to deliver the baby breech,” Narcissa told Madam Pomfrey. “If you think it can be done.”

“I’ve done it before,” said Madam Pomfrey. “But it’s been thirty years. I started at Hogwarts in ’71, after I lost a…” Her voice trailed off. “I’ll need a few things. Severus? Severus!”

Snape re-entered.

“I was hoping you hadn’t gone far. Listen carefully, I’ll need the following…”

As she listed, he nodded, not looking toward the bed, where Narcissa was comforting her sobbing sister. He stepped out to do as asked as Madam Pomfrey tried to talk Bellatrix through what would happen.

“I won’t help you until you’ve gotten her legs and body out, then I can reach in and help with the head if necessary. Most of the work you’ll do by pushing, just like if it were coming out the proper way. You need to try to remain calm…”

“I _am_ fucking calm!” shouted Bellatrix, who was now crying so hard she was practically hyperventilating.

“Sure you are, dear,” said Madam Pomfrey in a sympathetic tone. She looked to Narcissa. “Maybe your sister can help you breathe…” 

“Okay, Bella, darling, look at me,” said Narcissa, tilting her sister’s face so that they were making eye contact. “Breathe in, let it out. Okay? Let’s keep doing that. In and out. In and out. That’s good, Love.”

“I’m calm. I’m breathing,” said Bellatrix, voice shaking despite her attempts to regain composure. “You… you lost a what? Madam… Madam Pomfrey? You said you started at Hogwarts after you lost a what? A baby? Don’t lie to me. I’m a Legilimens. I’ll know if you’re lying. What did you lose? Did you lose a baby?”

“A mother,” Poppy said softly, positioning Bella’s legs so she’d be ready. “The baby survived, but I lost the mother. In 1970.”

“Oh,” said Bellatrix weakly. “Well that’s lovely, isn’t it?”

“She was my only loss,” Madam Pomfrey assured her. “For what it’s worth, she was my only loss in over thirty years.”

Finally, Snape returned. This time, Madam Pomfrey asked him to stay, informing him that he was to use the knife she’d brought to cut the umbilical cord once the time came. This made him go pale (paler than usual, anyway) but he agreed to oblige for fear of angering the Dark Lord if he said no. The former midwife set out what she’d need and got into position, widening and readjusting Bella’s legs as Severus averted his eyes. Narcissa, despite the pain in her hand, allowed her sister to keep holding it.  

It was time to push.

Bellatrix pushed

And screamed.

Madam Pomfrey prompted her to push a second time.  

She pushed again.

And again, she screamed.

“You’re doing fine,” Madam Pomfrey said. “Let’s try another. Big push, on three…”

“Kill me!” shouted Bellatrix, on the verge of tears again. She felt as though she was being split open from her sex up, like she’d never be able to be put back together again, like she might divide in half down the middle. Her abdomen contracted and ached, her lower back was on fire, and breathing was difficult. “I was wrong, Cissy. It’s worse than the Cruciatus. It’s worse. It’s worse.”

“It’s alright, Bella. It won’t last long,” Narcissa assured her. “And it’ll be worth it, when you hold your baby, it’ll be worth the pain.”

“And again… One… two… push!”

“Shit! Shit! Fuck! Ow!” howled Bellatrix.

“We have legs!” announced Poppy. “You’re doing well. Let’s try another!”

“Another?”

“Yes, you have to keep pushing.”

Narcissa mopped sweat off her sister’s forehead. She’d never seen Bellatrix like this, so frightened, in so much pain, sweating, shaking. Slamming her head back against the pillow. Biting down hard her own wrist. Crying.

It was Bella’s next anguished scream that brought the Dark Lord back into the room.

“Why isn’t she done yet?” He asked.

Bella’s eyes snapped opened.

“You!” she shouted, fixing her gaze on Him. “Fuck you! Fuck you, Tom Riddle!”

“Bella!” gasped Narcissa. She’d never heard His last name before, nor had she heard anyone address Him by His first.

“I hate you! This is _your_ fault. I hope you die. I hope Potter fucking kills you!” shouted Bellatrix, looking upon her Master with an expression of pure loathing.

“Bellatrix!” Narcissa moved back to her sister’s side and grasped her hand as tightly as possible, afraid He would punish Bellatrix for this, despite the situation. To her surprise, the Dark Lord did not react. He simply continued to stand there, staring at Bellatrix, almost as if with… concern. Almost, but not quite.

“I need you to push, Mrs. Lestrange,” prompted Madam Pomfrey. “On three… One… two…”

But on three, when she failed to push out the body of the baby, Bellatrix pointed her bony finger at the Dark Lord’s chest and screamed, “Crucio!”

He did not react to this, either.

“Please, on three…” Madam Pomfrey prompted again. “One… two…”

This time, when Bellatrix pushed, the body of the baby slipped out. Madam Pomfrey warned Bellatrix it was now time for the head, explaining that it may take awhile to happen naturally, which she would not help with unless absolutely necessary, but Bellatrix couldn’t comprehend her words over the intolerable pain.

“I’m dying!” Bellatrix screamed. She broke into sobs as all the angry energy seemed to abruptly dissipate. Her eyes closed. She suddenly seemed to be growing paler and more feeble by the second. “I’m dying!” she whimpered. “I can’t push anymore. I can’t. I won’t. I’m dying.”

“Then I’m going to have to make a small incision,” said Madam Pomfrey, reaching not for the knife, but for her wand. She murmured an incantation. “Severus, hand me that green tub. Mrs. Lestrange? I have to numb the area before I cut into you.”

“No, please, no,” begged Bellatrix. “Don’t cut me.”

“I’m sorry,” said Madam Pomfrey. “The baby is stuck. If I don’t cut you, Mrs. Lestrange, you’ll surely tear, and we don’t want to further prolong…”

“Bellatrix,” interjected the Dark Lord, expressionless by definite in tone. “Do not call her Mrs. Lestrange, call her Bellatrix.”

“Excuse me,” apologized Madam Pomfrey, glancing at Him momentarily out of the corners of her eyes as Severus handed her the green tub. “ _Bellatrix_ , I know you don’t want me to cut you, but I think it’s for the best.”

“I’m dying…” whispered Bellatrix, eyes still closed. For a fraction of a second, the Dark Lord’s cool expression again seemed to indicate concern, followed by a momentary look of compassion, which was caught only by Snape. Then He stalked over to her, grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, forced her into a semi-erect position, and shook her.

“Look at me,” He demanded. She opened her eyes. “Push out the head, or she’s going to cut you. If she cuts you, you’ll take longer to heal. The longer you take to heal, the less useful you are to me. Is that what you want? You want to be useless?”

“Go to hell,” she whimpered. “I want to not die!”

He sneered. “Good, because you are _not_ dying. Quit the theatrics, you poor, pathetic, melodramatic little bitch.”

A twinge of hurt swept over her eyes, followed by a flash of fiery determination. She cocked her head arrogantly and spat out her next words:

“Fuck off, you noseless old troglodyte. I am neither pathetic _nor_ melodramatic!”

“Women have been having babies since the dawn of time!” He snapped. “But it’s too difficult for you? You’re too weak?”

“Weak? Weak! I’ll show you who’s weak! Go ahead, woman. Cut me. Or don’t. No, don’t. I’ll push. Let me push. I’ll show you who the fuck is weak.”

The Dark Lord smirked, backing a few paces away. That was clearly precisely the response He’d been hoping for.

“Are you certain, Mrs. – er – Bellatrix?”

“Yes!” Bellatrix replied, energized. “Let me push. I’m ready!”

“Oh… okay,” said Madam Pomfrey, looking slightly taken aback. “We’ll try once more. One… two…”

With the Dark Lord standing beside her bed (a look of smug satisfaction remaining on His face) Bellatrix bore down, pushing, as Madam Pomfrey inserted two fingers to try to help guide out the baby’s head. She screamed and she did tear somewhat, but it worked. Out the baby slipped, finally, covered in blood and mucus and ooze, eyes crusted shut, still attached to the umbilical cord. Not breathing.

“Cut the cord, Severus,” demanded Madam Pomfrey. Looking uncomfortable, Snape took the knife and did as told, still trying his best to look anywhere but at half-naked, spread-eagled Bellatrix or her crusty, fluid-covered baby. Poppy Pomfrey flipped the baby and spanked it, forcing a cough, which was followed by a cry. “There it is! Sometimes it takes breech babies an extra few moments to start breathing. But listen to that wail! Perfectly healthy.”

Bellatrix flopped back onto her pillows, exhausted, physically weaker than she’d ever been, save for the hours after being attacked by her lover back in December.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking toward the Dark Lord. “I’m sorry I said I hate you. I’m sorry I said I hoped Potter would kill you.”

“Think nothing of it,” He said. “The absurdity of such a statement amused me. Are you also sorry for telling me to fuck off, followed by calling me a noseless old toglodyte?”

“No,” she answered honestly. “That one I meant.”

As they spoke, Madam Pomfrey wrapped the baby in a white towel, then used Aquamenti to wet a facecloth to wipe away the crust and blood from its face. She handed the baby to Narcissa to better clean up using the washbasin she’d had Severus place atop the dresser.

“You’ll still have to deliver the placenta,” said Madam Pomfrey. “Could be a few minutes, could be a half hour. But you’ve done well. You have a beautiful baby.”

“What is it?” asked Bellatrix.

“It’s a girl, Bella,” said Narcissa. She brought the now-clean baby to her sister, who cradled it lovingly in her arms and looked to the Dark Lord.

“It’s a girl, my Lord,” she said, gazing down at the newborn. “I knew it was going to be a girl.”

“Are you happy?” He asked.

She nodded.

Then she burst into tears.

“What’s wrong?” asked Narcissa. “Why are you crying?”

“Cissy… my Lord… I… I… I…”

“What?” asked the Dark Lord, who appeared to have been made more uncomfortable by her current tears than by watching her give birth. “What is it?”

“I don’t know a damn thing about being a mother!”

“Oh!” Narcissa crawled into the bed beside her sister, kissed her forehead, and placed one hand under the baby. “You’ll be a lovely mother! I’ll help you.”

“The baby is undersized,” said Poppy. “She must be a little early?”

“Five weeks,” confirmed Bellatrix through her tears. “Is she alright?”

“She looks healthy. After I’m done here, I’ll examine her properly.”

“She’s the tiniest baby I’ve ever seen!” exclaimed Bellatrix, who’d never actually seen a newborn before, let alone a premature one. Like her sister, Bella’s gaze was fixed on the baby’s tiny face, her button nose, her ten precious fingers. “Isn’t she tiny, Cissy?”

“She is tiny,” agreed Narcissa. “Smaller than Draco was.”

“But she’s perfect. She looks perfect, doesn’t she, Cissy?”

“She’s perfect,” agreed Narcissa, who honestly didn’t think she was as perfect as Draco.

“I can’t stop staring at her,” whispered Bellatrix.

She was not the only one.

The Dark Lord’s gaze was also transfixed on Bellatrix and her baby on the bed, though His expression was completely unreadable.

Over the next fifteen minutes, Madam Pomfrey dealt with the placenta and afterbirth, applied essence of dittany to the slight vaginal tearing that occurred with the passing of the baby’s head, cleaned up the bed and the supplies, and tried not to panic over wondering what would happen to her once the examination of the newborn was complete. Then she had Bellatrix set the baby down on the bed, opened the towel and, using her wand, began to check for any signs of distress, before measuring the newborn’s length and weight.

“She’ll lose a little weight over the next few days, but gain it back within two weeks. If she doesn’t gain it back, or loses a significant amount, you should have her checked by a qualified Mediwitch. How do you plan to feed her?”

“The natural way,” answered Bellatrix as Narcissa said, “Formula.”

“The natural way?” asked Narcissa. “You’re going to breastfeed her?”

“Of course,” replied Bellatrix. “When should I start?”

“As soon as you’re able,” said Madam Pomfrey. “ _Now_ , if you so desire. The sooner, the better.”

“Am I done here?” asked Snape, turning toward the Dark Lord. He had no desire to watch the woman breastfeed.

“Yes,” the Dark Lord confirmed. “You all are. Leave us. I need to speak privately with Bellatrix.”

Madam Pomfret wrapped the newborn girl in the blanket Narcissa had just handed to her. It was pastel yellow with egg-yolk yellow ducks printed on it. It had been Draco’s. Madam Pomfrey handed the baby back to Bellatrix. Bellatrix, tears still making their way down her cheeks, kissed her daughter’s head.

“Wait!” said the Dark Lord. “What of this?” He gestured toward Madam Pomfrey, but was looking at Snape.

“Are you going to kill me?” Poppy asked, also looking at Severus.

“No,” he said. “Narcissa will Obliviate you then I’ll return you to Hogwarts.”

She nodded, but he did not need Legilimency to know she didn’t believe him. Narcissa kissed Bellatrix’s temple, brushed her finger gently against the baby’s cheek, and assured her sister she’d be awake for awhile in case Bella should need anything. She exited, followed by Madam Pomfrey, preceded by Severus Snape.

Leaving Dark Lord, Bella, and their baby girl alone.

Together.


	13. EXHAUSTED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella's new baby has her up all night... leading to an impromptu nap in the middle of a meeting of Death Eaters. How with the Dark Lord handle this indiscretion by his most loyal and faithful follower?

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: EXHAUSTED**

“Bella!” hissed Narcissa, nudging her sister. “Bella, wake up!”

They were seated around the dining room table at Malfoy Manor, during the first inner circle meeting the Dark Lord had thrown since the birth of Baby Black (Riddle), who was, for the moment, left in the care of Squeakers the house-elf.

The Dark Lord started the meeting by explaining that because His name was now a “taboo,” no one could say it without accidentally summoning Snatchers to their side, which He hoped would be instrumental in helping them catch Potter since the boy was among the very few arrogant enough to say “Voldemort” rather than “He Who Must Not Be Named.” The Dark Lord then recognized Yaxley, whose work at the Ministry made the taboo possible, and expressed His regret that the Carrows and Severus Snape were unable to attend the meeting due to their obligations at Hogwarts.

Next He glanced around the table at His followers, greeting each in turn. Thorfinn and Euphemia Rowle; Hortensia Higgins and husband Rocco Pyrites; Hazel Whitecrest, who’d been supporting the Dark Lord since well before the First War but was a contemporary of Lucius’ parents, thus rarely joined them anymore; longtime followers Dolohov, Travers, Macnair, and Selwyn; fathers of Draco’s peers Nott, Bulstrode, Crabbe, and Goyle; Blaise Zabini’s beautiful black widow mother; the Lestrange brothers, and the Malfoys, all of whom were staring back at Him with rapt attention.

But one follower, one Death Eater, the one seated directly to His left, was propped up with her elbow on the table, her cheek against her palm, and her eyes closed… asleep.

Snoring.

“Bella!” Narcissa poked her sister in the thigh. The Dark Lord stared expressionlessly at His most loyal and faithful follower. Again Narcissa nudged Bellatrix. This time, her head slipped off her hand and fell forward. She smacked her forehead on the table and jumped.

“I’m awake!” she cried, looking around panicked and confused, as if she hadn’t expected to find herself in the middle of a meeting. She blinked several times before making eyes contact with her Master. “Oh… bloody hell.”

“Are we keeping you from your nap, Mrs. Lestrange?” He asked.

“What? Uh, no. Not at all. I was listening. Sir.”

He sneered. “Your eyes were closed.”

“I was resting them!”

“You were drooling.”

“I… I often drool.” She chewed her lip, looking very much like Narcissa in the moment, her the blonde often did so when nervous.

“You were snoring,” He said dryly. “Do you often snore while awake?”

“I…” Bellatrix looked to her sister. “I was snoring?”

Narcissa nodded.

“Sorry,” Bella said, turning back to the Dark Lord. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t punish me. I’m so sorry, my Lord, it’s just… I’m so tired. Ever since my baby…” She dropped the end of her sentence, cut off by His sharp look and the flash of His red slitted eyed. Though some in the room knew she’d been pregnant, they’d been told the baby didn’t survive childbirth. “Ever since my baby _died_ …” she went on, “I’m so tired. Exhausted, really. I’m listening now, though, I promise.”

“No,” said the Dark Lord, voice cold, His expression unreadable. “Go. Get out. You are of no use to me in this condition. Mrs. Malfoy? Accompany your sister to the third floor and put her to bed.”

“To the third floor?” asked Narcissa, confused. The third floor was where the Dark Lord slept, not where Bella’s room was. While everyone else in the room knew, or at least suspected, that Bellatrix had long been the Dark Lord’s mistress, her own sister was (naively) completely in the dark, thus this direction made little sense to her. Bellatrix, on the other hand, was panicking, expecting punishment.

“Please, no, my Lord, please, I’ll stay awake! It won’t happen again! Please, don’t send me away,” Bella pleaded. The Dark Lord paid her no mind.

“The third floor,” He confirmed, looking only at Narcissa. “Stay with her until I say you may go. We do not require your presence here, either.”

Narcissa nodded. Bellatrix was too exhausted and upset to argue further. She allowed herself to be guided up from her chair by her sister and led toward the door. Just before exiting, she turned back.

“I’m so sorry, my Lord.”

Bella was led away looking terrified, probably because the last time she’d been ejected from a meeting she’d then spent the next several hours being physically, sexually, and magically tortured by Him in punishment, an experience she did not wish to repeat. 

“He wants you on the third floor,” Narcissa said once they were well out of earshot, her arm still around Bella’s waist. “I assume that means in His chambers.”

“If He kills me, take care of my baby,” said Bella, sniffling.

“He won’t kill you,” Narcissa assured her, feeling not at all confident in this. “We have to make Him understand, a new mother’s brain, it doesn’t function the way… the way it did before the baby, or before the pregnancy. Pregnancy ruins your brain and mothering a newborn is, if anything, worse. He can’t expect you to function as you did before. You’re bound to be exhausted. It’s not your fault.”

“Tell _Him_ that,” said Bella, flinging herself backward onto His bed. Despite her worry, she soon fell asleep, with Narcissa sitting beside her in a conjured chair. An hour later, she awoke, complaining of sore breasts – she hadn’t been able to nurse at the regular time because of the meeting. Though she wasn’t sure whether this would make the Dark Lord angrier, Narcissa summoned the house-elf and asked her to deliver the baby to them, ensuring no one saw.

Moments later, Bella was finally able to breastfeed Nova Black (though newborn’s name had changed a number of times since her birth, this one seemed to be sticking) and once she was done, exhaustion won out over fear as she fell asleep for awhile.

It was nearly two more hours before the Dark Lord joined them.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” He said without inflection, as He took the full-bellied, snoozing infant from her mother’s arms. He handed her over to Narcissa. “Mind the baby until tomorrow morning. I have business to discuss with your sister.”

And with that, Bellatrix, formerly the child who never cried, burst into tears.

The Dark Lord was clearly taken aback by this and demanded she cease immediately.

“Stop. Stop that. Stop your crying.”

Bellatrix did not stop crying.

“Bella…” The Dark Lord grabbed her by the back of her hair, forcing her to look at Him. “Stop crying. Your sister will take the baby until the morning so you can get a decent night’s sleep. Clearly, you need it.”

This was an unusually compassionate thing for Him to say, which only made Bellatrix cry harder. The Dark Lord pushed her roughly away, onto the bed, but then draped a quilt over her, thus exhibiting an unusual juxtaposition of cruelty and consideration – which, for Bellatrix, was par for the course considering their thirty year history, but to Narcissa it seemed bizarre.

He motioned for Narcissa to depart, but she paused by the door.

“How shall I feed her?” she asked nervously. She’d never been alone with the baby for more than a couple of hours before.

“How did you feed Draco?” asked the Dark Lord.

“I didn’t,” answered Narcissa. “We had a squib girl for a wetnurse.”

“That’s disgusting,” said the Dark Lord with a sneer.  “You allowed your son’s nourishment to come from the bosom of a squib?”

“She...” Narcissa’s eyes darted anxiously from His face, to her sister’s, and back again. “She was a nice squib girl.”

He sneered. “You’re an intelligent woman. I’m certain you can figure something out. Go.”

Unwilling to argue or question Him, Narcissa went.  Leaving Bellatrix alone with her Master.

Immediately upon hearing the closing of the door, she launched into another round of apologies, but He held up a hand to silence her.

“Are you happy with this baby I gave you, Bella?”

“I am, my Lord. Very happy.”

“But you can hardly hold up your head.”

“She’s nocturnal, Master. She’s up all night, wanting to be rocked, held, fed. She needs to be fed every couple of hours. My breasts are...” She clapped her hands over them. “It’s not... I’m not...”

“How long will it be before you can give me what I need from you?” He sat beside her on the bed and placed his hand gently over her knee, which made her heart flutter from the sheer intimacy of it. She loved it, _lived for it,_ when He seemed to regard her as one would a lover rather than a servant.

“I... I have to get better first, Master. I... tore, remember?”

“I am not referring to intercourse, Bellatrix,” He hissed. “I am intelligent enough to realize that the female body needs time to heal. What I need from you is what you’ve always given me as my most valuable, my most faithful, and most capable Death Eater.”

“I want to be what you want me to be, Master, but I am tired. So very tired. And weak. I... I can’t remember when I last showered. My body is sore. My breasts leak if I go too long without nursing her. I’m... bleeding... a little. I can’t imagine myself apparating to the kitchen, never mind engaging in battle. It hasn’t even been two weeks.”

He rested back against the headboard, pondering this. She positioned herself in the same way, a pillow behind her back. Both were quiet for some time, during which she inched down to nearly a fully recline. Just as her eyes were drooping again, she felt the weight of Him on her. She opened her mouth, prepared to remind him that she was bleeding and sore, when she realized this embrace was not a prelude to a sexual act.

He was on His side, with an arm around her waist, and His cheek rested against her chest. His eyes were closed.

“My Lord?” she whispered. Though over the years He had, at times, held her in bed, it was typically after sex, or it would occur naturally during the night, and He’d disengage from her upon waking, frequently while expressing annoyance that His body betrayed Him by seeking her out while He was sleeping.

“I don’t remember my mother,” He said. “She died shortly after giving birth to me. I don’t suppose she ever nursed me. I wonder if she even held me.”

Bellatrix froze.

He seemed to be showing her a vulnerability she’d never seen before, not in all these years, and she was afraid one wrong move would send Him into a furious tirade. She opted not to speak and subtly utilize Occlumency so as not to upset Him, but she couldn’t held placing her hand on His back, rubbing it slowly, comfortingly, as her sister did for her during the more uncomfortable late stages of her pregnancy.

“She named me for my father, did I ever tell you that?”

“No,” whispered Bellatrix. “But you told me your name.”

“It was his name. Tom Riddle. A common name. Not a name worthy of the wizard I would become.”

“Not at all worthy, Master.”

“Now my name is so feared even my followers dare not speak it. Not even you, Bella.”

“Never, my Lord.”

“I used to let you call me Tom on occasion. Do you remember? When you were just a girl. You were a beautiful girl.”

“Yes, my Lord.” She was feeling less apprehensive now, so she continued to rub His back with her right hand, lightly scratching her nails over His skin, and she placed her right on top of the arm held around her waist. She wondered if He could hear her heart beating through her chest. She wondered if He understood that, until their daughter was born, her heart beat only for Him. And now, for both of them.

“Azkaban was hard on you.”

“Yes.”

“You were there for many years.”

“Too many.”

“But you knew I would come for you.”

“I never doubted you, my Lord. I alone insisted we look for you. I alone spoke out for you at my trial. I alone was confident you couldn’t be defeated. I alone lo-...” She bit her lip as her heart raced, as she realized what she’d nearly said.

“I know.”

“You know?” She stopped stroking Him. He moved closer. She could feel the evidence of his growing arousal against her upper thigh.

“You alone love me.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“And you love our daughter?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“You would not die and leave her to be raised in a filthy Muggle orphanage.”

Bellatrix’s mind flashed back to the promise she’d begged of her sister earlier in the day: that if He should kill her, Narcissa would raise baby Nova Black.

“I would never do that to her, my Lord.”

He moved into a seated position and pressed His thin, nearly nonexistent lips to hers. Her heart went from racing to fluttering, a flutter that continued into her belly and lower, down between her legs... but no, they couldn’t.

He kissed her again, positioning Himself over her, pinning her arms above her head, but holding her wrists there together gently, as His other hand slid over her engorged breast.

“You conceived and carried and birthed and nursed my heir, Bellatrix Black,” He hissed into her ear.

“Yes, my Lord.”

His mouth moved to her neck, to her shoulder. “You are the only one I can trust.”

“Only me, Master? Not... not Severus Snape?”

He chuckled. “Always in competition with Severus.”

“He thinks he’s your most...”

“I would not entrust the raising of my heir to Severus, Bella. Which is why I want to be certain you are ready for battle before I send you out. In the interim...”

He squeezed her breast, eliciting a gasp, as it brought her both pleasure and pain, not to mention a very specific discomfort related to the fact that her nipples had taken on an entirely new and different function over the last two weeks. He moved His mouth to between them, pushing her clothing out of His way. When His mouth met her lower belly, she stopped Him.

“Please, Master. I’m sore. I’m bleeding. I need to heal...”

“I know.” He jerked apart her legs and for one terrifying moment she thought He was going to ignore her pleas entirely, but instead He kissed her inner thigh, flicked His tongue against the pale skin there, then moved back up to lay beside her.

“I could, perhaps, pleasure you in another way,” she suggested, gently, tentatively slipping her hand down over His groin. When He groaned, she took it as invitation to grasp His hardness, to begin to stroke Him through the material of His wizard’s robe.

He moaned her name as she used her mouth on Him, bringing Him to completion, after which she assumed He would order her to return to her own chambers, but to her pleasant surprise He took her in His arms, now with her cheek resting against His chest, and held her until she was asleep, running His fingers through her wild hair, keeping her close, like a lover.

When she awoke the next morning, after her first full-night’s sleep since before the birth of their baby, He was gone.


	14. MOTHERHOOD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellatrix balances motherhood with everything else in her life, seeks occasional advice and assistance from her baby sister, and wishes she'd had a better mother from whom she could've learned what it takes to be a good Mum.

**CHAPTER 14: MOTHERHOOD**

Sometimes Bellatrix missed Andromeda. 

She'd been missing her since Andromeda ran off to marry that bloody Mudblood. 

She missed her during the first war. She missed her when she was in Azkaban. 

She'd been missing her even more since seeing her shortly after she got pregnant. 

She hated going to Narcissa for advice. Andromeda was younger too, yes, but Narcissa was the _baby._ She'd spent her childhood protecting Narcissa, coddling her, trying to mother her in a way Mother never had. 

Mother. Speaking of women she wouldn't want to take parenting advice from. That vile, self-serving, loathsome bitch. 

"Damn it, Mother," Narcissa's voice carried to the hall from inside the kitchen.

Bellatrix entered. 

"You frequently curse Mother's name too? I curse her memory every damn day of my life. Happiest moment of my Azkaban stay was when you visited to tell me she'd croaked. I only wish I could have been there to see her on her deathbed."

"I don't want to talk about Mother." Narcissa pressed the back of her index finger to the cake she'd just baked and sighed. Too hot to frost.

"I figure I'm going to raise my daughter by asking myself, 'What would Mother have done?' every time I'm not sure what to do, and then I'll do the opposite of that." said Bellatrix. She was baby-free for a change, having just put the newborn down for a nap. She settled into a chair at the table and summoned the bowl of icing over, then swiped a bit from the inside of the bowl.

"I didn't hate Mother as you did." Narcissa took the bowl back. "Keep out. I need that for the cake."

"Is that chocolate cake?"

Narcissa looked at it cooling on the stove then looked back at Bellatrix. "No, it's lemon."

"Don't go being bitchy with me, Cissy. It's not my fault your husband threw you out." 

Narcissa bristled at this. "He didn't throw me out."

Bella twirled her wand, smiling. " No? I noticed you've been sleeping across the hall."

"He didn't throw me out," insisted Narcissa. "I threw myself out."

"Why?" This was perplexing. Narcissa had always seemed so devoted to her unworthy, philandering husband. Bellatrix wasn't unhappy to learn that her baby sister had decided to distance herself from the man she'd married, but she was surprised. Narcissa shrugged. She checked the cake again. Not cool enough. Bellatrix again summoned the bowl of icing her way and ate a little more, this time off the spatula her sister had been using to stir. Narcissa stopped her before she stuck it back in.

"You're worse than a child, Bella. Keep out of my icing."

Bellatrix put on a pronounced pout. "What good is it if I can't eat it?" 

"You can eat it once it's on the cake."

"What if I don't want cake?"

"Please. I know you. You'll want cake. It's chocolate."

"You said it was lemon." Bella smiled. Narcissa couldn't help smiling back.

"I lied."

As soon as the cake was frosted, Bellatrix insisted upon taking a piece, which she brought back to her bedroom, explaining that she needed to check on the baby. She returned to her room relieved to find the infant was still asleep, thus she was able to eat her cake in peace... 

When she awoke over two hours later, it was to find the baby wailing at the top of her tiny voice. She stood and stretched. She couldn't recall falling asleep. She ran her fingers through her hair on her way to the basinet only to realize her hair was full of frosting. She lifted baby Nova and glanced at herself in the mirror. There was frosting all down her right cheek, clumped in her hair, and streaked across her check. 

"Fuck!" 

She's fallen asleep in her cake. 

* * *

But the time her daughter was a month old, Bellatrix was faring a bit better.

A very teensy bit better. 

The teensiest, tiniest, ickle-bittiest bit better.

Barely better.

On this particular morning, she she was breastfeeding Nova at the table while sipping coffee, not her typical breakfast beverage, while reading the Prophet when her sister entered the kitchen. Narcissa looked like her usual self, despite the fact that she was in her nightgown. Her hair shined from having been brushed and Bella would be willing to bed she'd brushed her teeth. This, despite the fact they were alone in the room, made her feel somewhat self-conscious. She was wearing two-pieced Muggle pajamas that buttoned down the front, her wild hair was uncombed, and she had dark circles under her heavy-lidded eyes. She looked as though she hadn't slept in days.

Narcissa sat across from her and stole a piece of toast off her plate, then summoned over the coffee pot and a mug.

"You look awful, Bella."

"Fuck off."

Narcissa did not seem bothered by the hostility. "Do you want me to watch the baby for a couple of hours so you can sleep?"

"I don't need your help." Bellatrix set down her mug to readjust her nursing daughter's position. "I can do it all myself."

"Of course you can," said Narcissa with both an eye-roll and a sigh. "But should you change your mind, I'm here until two with nothing to occupy my time."

"So get a hobby," snapped Bellatrix irritably. "Knit something."

"I _have_ a hobby," Narcissa reminded her. "I cook. And I read. Reading is a hobby."

"Fuck reading. Fuck cooking. Fuck hobbies and fuck you." She stroked her baby's hair gently as she lashed out at her sister. Why wasn't this motherhood thing easier? 

"You're pleasant this morning," Narcissa said sarcastically. She used her wand to summon the sugar to the table then spooned a healthy amount into her coffee. "It's like you're a teenager again."

Bellatrix glared at Narcissa, glanced down at the baby she was nursing, then dragged her gaze back up to meet her sister's, suddenly feeling guilty for her behavior as of late. "I'm sorry, Cissy. I didn't sleep. I haven't slept. I put her down and she's quiet and I get into bed, but it's as if she can sense when I'm finally dozing off, and she starts to cry. I wish I could sleep while holding her, but I'm terrified I'll roll over and squish her, so I lay there half-asleep instead. I don't understand why this is happening. She wasn't like this before. The first few days she slept all the time. I've lost all control over her."

"She's not even a month old yet, Bella," Narcissa pointed out, though in fact she was only a day shy of the milestone. "She's not going to sleep all through the night. And don't be distressed about losing control - you never had control. The baby has the control. That's how babies work."

"She's got a rash, Cissy," Bellatrix whined. "I change her as soon as I know she's wet but she's got a rash anyway. Her little bum's all red."

"They make a cream for that; it's better than the spell. I'll pick some up today, and maybe a toy for her, she should be able to hold soft toys now. I'll go to a Muggle shop to avoid being seen… if I can borrow a lock of your hair."

"A lock of my hair? Why?"

But before Narcissa could answer, Rodolphus entered. He halted and sneered as soon as he saw his wife and the baby.

"I really wish you'd do that rubbish elsewhere, Bellatrix."

"Which rubbish, Rodolphus? Eating toast or drinking coffee?"

"Breastfeeding that baby!" he snarled. "Can't you cover up? It's not appropriate in the common areas. What are you going to do when Draco is back for Easter break in a couple of weeks? You can't have your tits out all over the Manor while he's home. Right, Narcissa?"

Narcissa sipped her coffee as if she hadn't heard the question.

"Why?" asked Bellatrix snottily. "You think my nephew's unaware of the fact that women have breasts for the purpose of feeding babies? You think this bit of basic knowledge has completely escaped him? You think he'll be shocked to learn that women's bodies have a function that extends beyond being visually appealing for men?"

Rodolphus scoffed. "Get off your high hippogriff. I just meant he doesn't need to see it, and neither do I!"

"I'm your wife, Rodolphus. You've seen my chest before. You've seen all of me before. Hell, you've practically _done_ this to me before, albeit with an entirely different intention."

"Ew," said Narcissa under her breath.

"That's digusting," Rodolphus said. He poured the last of the coffee into a mug.

"Don't you worry, my darling husband," Bellatrix said, smirking at him. "I find the notion of foreplay with you just as disgusting as you find the notion of foreplay with me, the primary difference being for you, this disgust is relatively new, whereas I've been battling it our entire marriage."

He grumbled an indistinguishable response as he added milk to his coffee. Rabastan entered moments later as Bellatrix was unlatching the baby, moving her into burping position.

"Must you do that in the kitchen?" Rabastan asked, looking at her with clear revulsion.

"Fine!" Bellatrix stood, shirt still unbuttoned, the baby curled against her. "From now on, I'll feed my damn baby under a blanket in the dungeon so you poor pathetic oversensitive troglodytes don't have to worry about accidentally witnessing it!" Gently patting the baby's back, she stalked out of the kitchen toward her bedroom.

"Damn it," cursed Narcissa. She rushed after her sister.

Once in Bellatrix's bedroom, Narcissa was able to get her to give up the baby.

"Let me hold her. I'll burp her, you rest. I'll pick up the cream later today. I just need a lock of your hair…"

"What? Why?" Bellatrix was already reclined on the bed, her eyes closed, apparently having rethought her position on letting Narcissa watch the baby so she could sleep.

"I need to put it in Polyjuice Potion so I can apparate off and on the grounds. I don't have a Dark Mark. Polyjuice is the only way."

"What?" Bellatrix sat up and stared at Narcissa. "That can't work."

"It works."

"But that's not good! The Dark Lord… He… When He finds out… He'll need to… the wards will have to change! It can't be that easy! That means anyone with a flask of Polyjuice and a bit of a Death Eater's hair could get in here!"

"Please, please don't tell Him, Bella. It's my only hope for some semblance of freedom. Please? I'll watch the baby. You sleep. I'll get the cream. It'll take care of the rash, okay? You want the rash taken care of, don't you? You don't want the baby to cry all night, do you?"

"I…"

As if on cue, the baby began to wail. Bella closed her eyes and reclined back onto her pillows.

"Fine. Take my baby, take my hair, hell, cut off my damn arm and just take the Dark Mark." She extended her arm out toward her sister. "I don't care. I've never been so bloody exhausted in all my life."

Narcissa grinned. "You can keep your arm, Love, but I'll take that hair."

Without opening her eyes, Bellatrix lifted her wand and a chunk of her hair. "Diffindo," she muttered, using the severing charm to lop a small lock off the end. She held it out to Narcissa, who took it as she lightly bounced crying Nova.

"Thanks. I'll bring her to the nursery."

Bellatrix nodded weakly and waved a hand, dismissing them.

* * *

 

A couple of hours later, Bellatrix awoke and sought out her sister and the baby. They were, as expected, in the nursery that had once been Draco's. 

"Something the matter?" asked Narcissa. 

"My breasts are leaking," Bellatrix explained, cupping her chest with her hands. Somehow she managed to appear both refreshed and drowsy at the same time. "How is my baby?"

"She's fine. She's asleep."

"Might I ask you an uncomfortable question, Cissy?"

"Of course, Bella."

Bellatrix averted her gaze, staring everywhere but at her sister, hating herself for having needed this break, and hating herself more for what she was about to confess.

"I... seem to lack... proper bladder control. When I cough, or..."

"Oh, that's normal," Narcissa assured her with a chuckle. "You gave birth only three weeks ago."

(It was closer to four, but Bella did not correct her.)

"It takes time for your body to recover. No matter how strong or capable or talented you are, it's not going to happen overnight."

Bellatrix sniffled. She was afraid that might be the answer. Time. Every time she set aside her pride to ask Narcissa for advice, the answer to her question was time. Fucking time.

"So when will this stop?"

Narcissa shrugged. "When you die, I presume."

Bellatrix went whiter than usual.

"You're teasing me. Please tell me you're teasing me! Does it get better?"

"I'm mostly teasing you and yes, it will get better. Since we're on the subject of... _you..._ don't take this the wrong way, Love, but you should shower. You're a mess. There's dry spit up on your arm. When was the last time you washed your hair?"

"When was she born?" asked Bellatrix, working one hand through her tangled curls while examining the crusted baby bile on her opposite arm. "I think it was before that."

"She can handle another half hour away from you. Go."

With a nod of resignation, Bellatrix exited, heading back toward her own bedroom. When she returned again, she looked more like her usual self, wearing a floor-length black dress, several rings, a bracelet, and eyeliner, with her hair half pulled up, the most put together she'd been since her daughter was born. 

Bellatrix tugged Narcissa's hair playfully. "Thanks, Cissy. Going someplace good this afternoon?" She took the baby from her sister's arms and kissed her soft cheek.

"Not really. But I can't keep cooped up here all day every day," Narcissa said, mentally clearing her mind, just in case.

"Wherever you're headed, have fun... and... thanks for today."

Narcissa grinned. It wasn't often that she received a genuine thank you from her big sister. "You're welcome."

* * *

 

It was April, not long before Easter, and Bellatrix had just returned to Malfoy Manor from a mission assigned by the Dark Lord - her first since giving birth - when she heard voices in the dining room. As one of them belonged to her sister, in whose care she'd left her daughter, she entered. Draco, Narcissa, Lucius, and the baby were present. Thankfully, no one else was. 

"Yes," Narcissa was saying, answering a question Bella hadn't heard. "It's been tense."

"What's been tense?" she asked. She was wearing a long gray traveling cloak, open to reveal Muggle attire underneath, and she was in good spirits for a change. 

"You look different," said Draco, having never seen her dressed this way before. "Where have you been?"

"None of your business, nephew!" she said with a smile. She hurried over to the table, kissed Draco hello, tugged Cissy's hair affectionately, then lifted her daughter from the pram beside Narcissa. "How is my beautiful baby? Did you miss your mummy, Nova Black? Say 'Yes, Mummy! I missed you, Mummy!' Aww, I missed you too, Love!" Bellatrix placed a gentle kiss on the infant's forehead. "Isn't she the most beautiful baby you've ever seen, Draco? You barely met her when you stopped in last month. Now that you're home for two weeks you'll have to spend some time together. Cousin bonding and all that. Have you held her?"

Without waiting for an answer, she placed the baby in his arms. He backed away from the table to avoid accidentally dipping Nova in his shepherd's pie, feeling awkward and uncomfortable, but after a few seconds, he couldn't help smiling. He began to relax. He even rocked her a bit.

"Look, Cissy!" exclaimed Bellatrix. "He's a natural!"

"No, he isn't," snapped Narcissa. "You're too young to be holding babies, Draco. Give her back to Auntie."

Draco rolled his eyes as, for the first time in weeks, Lucius let out a hearty laugh.

"Don't worry, Narcissa. Holding a baby won't make the boy want one," said Lucius. "Quite the opposite, probably. Let him take care of her for a couple of hours while he's here. He'll go back to Hogwarts swearing off witches forever."

"I'm certain I could handle a couple of hours with an infant," Draco said haughtily, shooting a look of annoyance at his father. "How difficult can it be? Look, she's smiling at me! She… wait… what's that smell?" His pale face went green as the noxious scent of baby gas wafted up from the direction of her diaper.

Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Lucius all laughed at this – the baby was indeed smiling quite contentedly, as Draco gagged, holding Nova out toward his aunt.

"Bellatrix, take her! Mother? Someone take her! It's…" He blanched, choking back the urge to vomit when he realized her excrement had seeped out onto his forearm. "It's on my skin! Oh, eww, Mother, it looks like peanut butter, but the smell… how can anything that small smell that bad?"

Now Lucius was guffawing so hard he could barely get his next words out. "See, Naricssa? I told you. What did it take? Fifteen seconds? Babies are the best birth control."

"The formula gives her tummy trouble, that's all. Calm down, Draco," said Bella, rolling her eyes. She'd had to start supplementing her breastmilk with formula since Narcissa had started taking over more and more of the girl's daily care. Gingerly, she took the baby from her nephew, used to wand to Vanish the mess that had seeped out the side of her diaper and oozed through Nova's onesie, then did the same to the sickle-sized amount that managed to make its way to Draco's forearm. He hurried from the room anyway, to thoroughly wash his arm in the bathroom. "Come upstairs with me, little one. Mummy will give you a bath and feed you properly." She shot Narcissa a glare, even though it was unfair to consider it her sister's fault formula upset the newborn's tummy. Narcissa's upper lip curled into an aggravated sneer. Not noticing, or perhaps not caring, Bellatrix settled the baby back in the pram and pushed her from the room. "We'll spend more time with Auntie and Uncle and Cousin Draco tomorrow, Lovey."

"You're welcome!" called Narcissa.

* * *

 

Early the next morning, Bellatrix knocked on Narcissa's bedroom door and asked her to watch the baby. Again. For the fourth day in a row. 

She could tell Narcissa wasn't happy about the request. 

"Bella! I don't mind helping with her, but we're running low on formula and if you keep handing her off to me your milk will dry up and…"

"I know, I know, Cissy! But please, _just one more day!_ The Dark Lord _needs_ me. There's a meeting this morning; Death Eaters are already arriving, I had to skip breakfast and hurry back up here – you and Nova Black will have to stay out of sight for awhile – then I'll be out for the entire day but back before dinner. I promise. Please, please, please?"

"Fine," agreed Narcissa, taking the sleeping infant.

"Thank you!" Bella started to exit but paused, then shut the door and lowered her voice. "Cissy, before I go, may I ask you a personal question?"

"You may."

"How long…" Bella paused, unsure of whether she wanted to know the answer, before going on. "How long should a couple wait… after a baby is born… before they… have sex again?"

Narcissa appeared taken aback by this. "How long should _a couple_ wait? Well, let's see. _I_ waited an entire year after Draco was born, but I believe Lucius only waited a matter of minutes, so if we split the difference, perhaps six months?"

"Cisss-ssy!" whined Bellatrix. "This is serious. How long?"

Narcissa sighed. The baby stirred and began to wail so Narcissa popped her tiny thumb in her mouth, then bounced her lightly, letting the movement soothe her back to sleep. Bellatrix fidgeted while awaiting a real response. 

"I genuinely don't know, Bella. After Draco was born, I didn't want to. I didn't want to be touched at all, especially not like that. But you're not me. I suppose the question is, how do you feel? Do you feel like you can have sex? Do you even want to?"

"I don't want to," she admitted, momentarily vulnerable and hating herself for it. "I don't want to but… but I can't say no forever."

"Who are you saying no to?" Narcissa couldn't imagine that Bellatrix was thinking of reconciling with Rodolphus, considering the toxic way they were treating each other as of late. Their relationship seemed to be in worse shape than that of Narcissa and Lucius.

"That's not important," said Bellatrix dismissively.

"It… it doesn't have anything to do with… with your work for the Dark Lord, does it?" Narcissa asked this with concern. Before getting an answer, she hurried into the next room to put the sleeping baby in the crib. Bellatrix followed. "He isn't… making you do… something?"

"He doesn't _whore me out_ like your husband thinks he does," Bellatrix replied, hurt and angry.

"That's not what I meant," Narcissa said softly. "I just…"

Bellatrix cut her off.

"Forget I asked. Thank you for watching my baby." She leaned over the side of the crib, smiling down at her daughter. "Nova Black is beautiful, isn't she? Strikingly beautiful. She's perfection. Without a doubt, she is the most beautiful baby ever born."

Narcissa chuckled. "All mothers think their babies are the most beautiful babies ever born. I was so in love with Draco, I thought no baby before or since, magical or Muggle, had ever been so precious."

Bellatrix snorted. "Draco? Please. He had red blotches all over his face and his head was weirdly shaped!"

"His head was not weirdly shaped!" Narcissa put her hands on her hips, indignant. "He got a little stuck when he was coming out and had to be pulled along by a mediwitch, that's all." The mediwitch had used a medieval looking metal tool to do so, the memory of which still made Narcissa shudder. "He was fine in a few days! And I think his red spots were cute!"

"Yeah, real cute," Bella replied sarcastically, still gazing down at her own creation. "Nothing says 'cute' like a bad case of spattergroit."

Narcissa's eyes flashed. She forced herself to keep a calm voice, to avoid waking the baby. "He did _not_ look like he had spattergroit!"

"Cissy, I'm only teasing." Bellatrix tugged her sister's hair, realizing she should let this drop lest she lose her access to the free babysitting her sister had been providing. "Don't feel bad. Anyway, Draco was a lot cuter than Andromeda as a baby. I'll never forget when Father and Mother brought her home. I thought they'd accidentally left St. Mungos with a mandrake instead of a baby. She was the loudest, smelliest, ugliest little shit you've ever seen, and I'm not simply saying that because she grew up to be a bloodtraitor bitch."

Narcissa snickered. "What about me, Bella? Was I hideous too?"

"No," said Bella honestly, but making it clear that this fact thoroughly annoyed her. "You were a little like Nova. Perfect skin, blue eyes, very symmetrical, but unlike my perfect daughter, your ears stuck out."

Without realizing she'd done it, one of Narcissa's hands immediately went to her ear, the one that she felt more self-conscious about, which is why she nearly always kept her hair at least half-down. "My eyes were blue? Draco's eyes were blue, too. Then they went gray. I wonder if that's typical of babies. Nova's are already getting darker. "

"Yes, I…" Bellatrix happened to glance at the clock on the mantle. "Fuckity-fuck! I forgot about the Dark Lord's meeting. I'm going to be late. Got to go! Thanks again, Cissy!"

It wasn't until Bellatrix was halfway down the hall she realized she hadn't actually gotten an answer to her question about how long a couple should wait. 

She supposed it didn't matter.

She would wait as long as she possibly could without angering the Dark Lord. 

But when He inevitably asked her for the satiation she'd been providing Him on the regular since 1968, she would oblige. 

* * *

Sometimes she wished her mother had been a better mother.

Even though she'd reached adulthood in 1968, thirty years ago, she couldn't help occasionally lamenting the fact that she'd basically had to raise herself.

And her sisters. 

She couldn't help hating her mother for not protecting them from Stepfather. 

She couldn't help resenting her mother for remarrying so soon after her father died. 

She couldn't help loathing her mother for turning her back on her when she was arrested. 

She would never do that to her daughter, the daughter of the Dark Lord. 

She would love her and raise her and care for her properly, no matter how tired she felt. 

She would protect her from anything and anyone, no matter the cost, even the Dark Lord Himself, should it come to it.

She may not be capable of getting a good night's sleep...

And she may not know when it would be safe to have sex again...

And she may never regain the bladder control she once had (Merlin, please don't let this last forever!)...

But no matter what, she would be a damn fine mother.

She had to be.

She owed it to her baby. 

 

 

 

 


	15. GIFTS

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: GIFTS**

As a girl, Bellatrix fought with her mother, her stepfather, her younger sister Andromeda, her dorm mates at Hogwarts, and even a few of her professors.

She did not fight with her baby sister, Narcissa. 

This was because no matter how old Narcissa got, she was forever the baby, and Bellatrix felt the need to protect her, to defend her, and to take care of her. Fighting with her wouldn't make any sense. 

Which is why Bellatrix didn't know how to handle it when she and Narcissa had their first major row, a few days into Draco's Easter holiday from school. The fight started shortly after Bellatrix, Lucius, and Draco returned from a task as assigned by the Dark Lord. Lucius went straight to his bedroom and Draco went straight to his, but Bellatrix, of course, headed straight for the nursery to retrieve her baby from her sister. 

"You missed dinner," Narcissa said, though she didn't mean for it to sound as accusatory it sounded.

"Yes, well, excuse me, but it took a bit longer than anticipated to get the job done on account of we had your son weighing us down," snapped Bellatrix defensively. "Where's my daughter?"

"She's asleep. What do you mean you had my son weighing you down?"

Bellatrix tossed her head, which made her wild hair wave like that of a stallion's mane. "It's no matter to you, Cissy. But for the record, by the time my Nova is old enough for her first wand, she'll already be of far more use to the Dark Lord than your son is now. He could barely complete our task, his father and I had to talk him through it, it was embarrassing. If he can't handle something so small as eradicating an inconsequential Muggle family, how will he fare when he's up against those who can fight back, former peers or former professors, Order members or rogue Aurors. You know, people who matter?"

"What do you mean 'eradicating an inconsequential Muggle family,' Bella?" Narcissa placed a hand on her lower belly, looking slightly green, as if she might be sick. 

"I know it's a big word, Cissy, but try to keep up. Eradicate means to destroy completely or put an end to, to elimin–"

"I know what the word means, Bellatrix! You're telling me the Dark Lord assigned my son the task of eliminating an entire Muggle family?"

"The Dark Lord has concerns about Draco. Sure, it worked out with Snape killing Dumbledore for him, but what if he hadn't, eh? Next time, Snape or I or Lucius might not be there to do the job for him and he won't be able to do it himself. This is because you've coddled him, dear sister. After all these years Lucius and I are finally in agreement about something and that's it. He says you used to let the boy sleep with you when he was in primary school and had nightmares? That's unnatural."

"You used to let  _me_  sleep with  _you_  when  _I_  was little and had nightmares!" Narcissa exclaimed, exasperated. "Hell, I let you sleep with me when you were lonely just last year and you're in your fucking forties! Is _that_ unnatural?"

"We're sisters, Cissy, it's not the same. Boys shouldn't be cuddling up to their mummies once they're out of nappies. It turns them soft. Like Draco. As I said, Lucius and I fully agree."

"If being unwilling to murder an innocent family means a man is soft, then I'm proud to have coddled him! You're a mother now, Bella! Think about it! Do you really want Nova to go about killing people?"

"I realize it won't happen overnight," said Bella dismissively, as if they were discussing turning her daughter into a ballet dancer or Quidditch keeper rather than a murderous Death Eater. "It'll take cultivation, of course. We'll start when she's three or four, I think. She can watch me. We won't hunt Muggles together, not until she's older, but I can demonstrate the Unforgivables on mice so she understands what power she can wield someday. Once she's got her own wand, I'll let her experiment on rabbits, foxes, badgers… When I was seventeen, I had a cat, do you remember my cat?"

"Mr. Sticky-Whiskers?" asked Narcissa. She nodded, her eyebrows drawn together anxiously. Narcissa had loved that cat.   
  
Bellatrix and her sisters had begged Mother for a cat for the better part of a decade and Mother always said no.

Then, less than two months after Stepfather was murdered and Bellatrix was removed as Head Girl, she decided she no longer needed Mother's permission for anything and came back to Hogwarts from a Hogsmeade trip (late, earning detention) with a fat, fluffy, grouchy gray kitten who had double-paws and a smooshed face. He was small and sickly when she first got him, so she needed to feed him with an eye-dropper and wake up with him every couple of hours for the first week or two. Once he was strong and healthy, he was a lovely cat, though he hissed at anyone who wasn't Bellatrix. She adored him. He'd curl up in her lap while she read in the Common Room, he'd snuggle up to her chin when she slept, and he'd even sit on her shoulder like a parrot while she'd walk around Hogwarts grounds. After she finished school and moved out of Mother's house, he was one of the few possessions she took to her small newly rented flat. Unfortunately, she only had him for about a year.

"The poor thing slipped out into the cold one snowy night in February and you never saw him again," Narcissa reminisced. "It was sad."

Bellatrix sighed, depressed by the memory of it, and even more down about having to let her in on a little secret: "Yeah, no, actually. I killed him."

Narcissa's mouth dropped open. "You what?"

"I didn't tell you because you were young and I reckoned you'd be upset, but the Dark Lord gave me that cat as a gift, the first gift He'd ever given me, and then, exactly twelve months later, He surprised me at my flat one night and told me I needed to kill my kitty. I didn't understand why at the time, but I got it later. He didn't want me to be pathetic and emotional, you know, like Draco. He told me he would spare my life or that of the cat and of course I chose me, even though it hurt because I truly loved Mr. Sticky-Whiskers. Remember his smooshy face, those mitten paws, and the way he followed me everywhere? Poor, sweet kitty. I cried after I did it. But the Dark Lord knew it was necessary. He wanted me to be strong. The next time I killed something, I didn't cry."

"You're an idiot," said Narcissa, looking over her sister as if seeing her for the first time. "He didn't make you kill your cat to make you strong! He made you kill your cat to prove that He had complete control over you. He gave you the cat and let you love it and then He made you kill it to prove that you were devoted to Him!"

Bellatrix shrugged. "Which I was. Which I am! What are you saying?"

"What am I saying? Listen carefully, Bella! He gave the cat to you, then He took it away! He made you love it, then He made you kill it! How can you think his motives were anything beyond…"

Bella, now understanding, cut her off. "He wanted me to prove that I'm strong! To remind me not to let my emotions control me! Those who are controlled by their emotions–"

"He wanted you to show your dependence! To prove that you're powerless! To remind you that you're under His control!"

Bellatrix narrowed her heavy-lidded eyes, glaring at her younger sister. "That's not true! I'm devoted, not dependent! You take that back!"

"I will not take it back because it  _is_  the truth. You're just too blind to see it!"

"You're trying to hurt me because you're sore over what I said about Draco. Well, I'm sorry you're oversensitive, but the fact is, you've coddled him and made him weak and I won't do the same with my daughter. She is my greatest gift and I'll not waste her talents."

"You consider her a gift, do you? Then I suppose it's a good damn thing the Dark Lord didn't give her to you because I'd hate to see Him make you kill her a year from now to prove a point about how strong and devoted you are!"

The anger in Bella's eyes melted away, replaced by fear. This had never occurred to her, but what if Narcissa was onto something? What if, like with Mr. Sticky-Whiskers, the Dark Lord gifted a baby to Bella simply so He could dictate what should be done with her later? What if He wanted her to meet the same tragic end? A sick feeling rose up from the pit of her gut, burning like indigestion, but she quickly worked to suppress it, telling herself no. No. He would never do that. Not to Bellatrix, His most loyal and faithful and devoted follower. And certainly not to Nova, His own flesh and blood, His only heir. Bella's expression hardened.

"You're being ridiculous, Cissy. Don't you see? I'm trying to _help_ you. Your family is not in good standing. The Dark Lord remains unhappy with both Lucius and Draco. This mission was a test, one that your son failed. Your husband understands how important it is to get you back in the Dark Lord's good graces, why can't you?"

"I don't want my son killing Muggles!"

"It's your lucky day then, Love, because he didn't! He couldn't! He barely managed to tease them with a couple of stinging hexes, Levicorpus, and some stunning spells, but I enervated them because what fun is it to torture them when they're stunned?"

"How many were there?" asked Narcissa. She sank onto the end of her bed, her hand returned to her abdomen. Bella smiled, glad to have moved the conversation away from Mr. Sticky-Whiskers and the Dark Lord's plans for Nova.

"Perfectly sized little Muggle family. Two parents, three children. I took the father. I like having power over the men. I like it when they look at me the way I used to look at Stepfather. Like I've got all the control and they know it but they're going to think up clever ways to fight back anyway even though it won't matter. Lucius took the mother…"

"Took her how?" asked Narcissa.

"Nothing sexual, if that's what you're asking. He's gone soft too, I think, though that was never really his thing. If Rodolphus had been there…"

"Stop telling me," said Narcissa, closing her eyes. She placed a hand on the foot-board of the bed to steady herself. Though she hadn't been drinking, she felt like the room was spinning. "I don't want to know."

Realizing how much she was bothering her sister, and unable to stop herself from wanting to make it worse, wanting to punish Cissy for what she's said about the Dark Lord and the kitty and her daughter, Bellatrix pressed on, a wicked smile on her lips.

"They had a boy, he looked about Draco's age, and two girls, maybe ten and twelve."

"Stop it, Bella, please, I mean it."

"I ordered Draco to Full-Body Bind the boy then perform the Cruciatus on the girls. He could use the practice. But he gave it one halfhearted attempt then refused to try again."

"You need to stop talking," said Narcissa. "I can't. I can't hear this."

"What's the issue, Cissy?" Bellatrix asked in a teasing tone. "They were just Muggles. We finished them off with the Killing Curse. I wanted Draco to do at least one, but he said no. I even used the Imperius on him, to compel him, but he tried to fight it off, which would've been impressive if it wasn't so frustrating. Oh, don't look at me like that, Cissy!" Bellatrix sneered at her younger sister. "I'm not a monster. I understand it's difficult the first time! I wouldn't have been half as confident  _my_  first time had the Dark Lord not been there to encourage me! But despite my reassurance and support, Draco wouldn't kill them. Like I said, I even tried putting him under the Imperius to force him just so he could get past these first time jitters, but he was fighting it and then Lucius stopped me. He said the boy will do it when he's ready. Whatever. Fine. He's your son, not mine. If he were mine, he wouldn't need to think about it. Just two little words and a flick of the wand…" Bellatrix took a deep breath as her eyes lit up with excitement. "The way it feels, Cissy, the way it feels the first time, it's incredible. You feel like you can do anything and no one in the world can stop you! I only wish my first had been Stepfather. I wish I'd come upon him in that alley with Andromeda. I wish I'd had the guts to off him… Nova will have the guts. I'll make sure of it. I'll raise her to be the best damn Death Eater the Dark Lord has ever seen. I'll make Him proud of her. You have to teach them when they're young, Cissy. But it's not too late for Draco. He's the same age I was when I met the Dark Lord and he's already got the Dark Mark, so he's ahead in that regard. I wonder how long it'll be before Nova gets the Dark Mark. I hope He'll do it before she goes to Hogwarts. She'll deserve it. I'll make certain she deserves it."

"Bellatrix, please." Narcissa rubbed her temples. She felt dizzy. So dizzy. "I can't think of my baby as a killer."

"You don't have to," said Bella, rolling her eyes. "He didn't kill anybody."

But Narcissa didn't mean Draco this time. She meant Nova. Stinging tears escaped her eyes, which were still squeezed shut, leaving streaks down her face. She sniffled.

"Are you crying?" Bellatrix grabbed Narcissa's face roughly between her hands, on which she wore fingerless gloves, and examined her. "These are tears. You're crying! Why are you crying? Because he couldn't do it? Don't worry, Cissy, he'll get it next time! Lucius and I will help him. I'll get you back into favor with the Dark Lord, I promise." Bellatrix kissed Narcissa on the forehead, suddenly regretting having upset her on purpose. She did not like tears. She'd always hated it when her baby sister would cry. "There's nearly a week left of Easter break. We'll think of something. He won't have to punish Draco if we manage to find a way for the boy to impress Him before He returns!"

"No!" Narcissa's eyelids snapped open. She pushed her sister away. "I don't want him to impress the Dark Lord, not if it means killing someone! How are you not horrified when you picture that future for your daughter, Bellatrix? How can you think of her that way and not want to be sick? They say it splits your soul to commit murder!"

"Nothing's wrong with my soul," said Bellatrix with a casual shrug. Killing had never made her feel anything but powerful. She's certainly never felt split or broken on account of it, nor had she ever felt remorse... save, perhaps, for killing her cat. Mr. Sticky Whiskers had been pretty cute. 

"I'm not sure you have a soul," replied Narcissa coldly. "No wonder the Dementors' presence didn't bother you as much as it did Lucius. You're soulless."

Bellatrix sighed. "This is the problem with you, Cissy. You're weak, weaker even than Draco. It's not something you can help. You were a weak-willed child. You cried all the time as a baby. Drove Mother and Father batty. I was only four but I remember. You need holding and cuddling and loving and attention and if you didn't get it, you cried. Andromeda was ugly but at least she was quiet."

"I'm weak because I cry?" Narcissa forced herself up from the bed even though she still felt sick to her stomach and fuzzy-headed. "But you, you're strong because you'd kill your own beloved cat to appease the Dark Lord? I think you and I have a different definition of strength."

Bellatrix tsked, annoyed. "Don't be daft, Cissy. You aren't weak because you cry, you cry because you're weak!"

"I'm weak? I'm the one who's weak?" Narcissa glared at her. "Please, Bellatrix. You have no idea how strong I've been, what I've done! When my son was in danger…"

"What  _you've_  done?" Bellatrix interrupted with a cackle. "I know what you've done. Not a damn thing. When your son was in danger, when he was assigned his task – a task that should have been an honor! – you bitched and cried about it and begged Snape to make that fucking Unbreakable Vow with you! You fell to your knees and begged him, Cissy, literally begged, and cried, you cried like a grieving widow, until he said he would help, remember? Meanwhile, what did _I_  do? I taught your son to perform the Imperius Curse. I taught him Occlumency and started teaching him Legilimency. I taught him to perform the Cruciatus on animals. I taught him useful things! I talked him through his nerves! I comforted and encouraged him after his multiple failings! Where were you then? All that year? Oh, I know! You were moping about, hoping Snape would take care of things! You were pouting because your cheating husband was in Azkaban, where he deserved to be for fucking up our mission in the Department of Mysteries! Where else were you…?" Bellatrix tapped her chin as if thinking it over. "That's right! I remember! You were in the kitchen, trying to teach yourself to cook!" She chortled. "Like that did a fat lot of good for Draco, right? Fact is, your son turned to me because he couldn't talk to you, and know why? Because he was afraid to upset you, to send you over the edge, to send you further into a _bottle._ Because even your son knows you're weak!"

Narcissa squared her shoulders and rounded on her sister. "Worrying about one's child isn't a weakness! Killing something you love simply because someone told you to is! He set you up. He gave you that cat to make you kill it later. It wasn't a gift. It was a test!"

"You're wrong," argued Bellatrix, but she averted eye contact, unable to shake the nagging feeling her sister might be right, wondering if murder was on the Dark Lord's mind when He gave her Mr. Sticky-Whiskers in the first place. She doubled-down, shooting daggers at her sister with her eyes... her hand twitching instinctively toward the dagger on her hip. "Cissy, you're wrong."

"And you're delusional! You traded one master for another, Bella. First it was Stepfather and then the Dark Lord."

"Stepfather was never my master. I fought back against him, always."

"You let the Dark Lord do worse to you than Stepfather did and you tell yourself it's alright because He makes you feel special! You really think that you're special, don't you? But it isn't alright and you're  _not_  special! You're not special, you're brainwashed! And that's weak! It's the epitome of weakness!"

Bellatrix's eyes flashed madly she drew her wand (instead of her knife) and pointed it at her sister.

"You're wrong, Cissy. You don't know… you don't know anything! First off, I  _am_  special. _I am fucking special._  I'm His most faithful and most loyal and… and… and He chose me to… to…" She wanted to say, "Carry His heir," but she couldn't reveal Him to be Nova's father, so she switched tactics. "You're soft, you're spoiled, and  _you're_ the bloody epitome of weakness! That's why the Dark Lord thinks you're useless, it's why your husband cheats on you, it's why Stepfather liked you best, and it's why Mother thought you could accomplish no more than being pretty, and… and… and you know what else? You're so soft and spoiled and weak, that's why Father didn't even think you were his! That's right, Cissy! Father had doubts you were even his daughter, that's how unlike the rest of us you've always been!"

"You're lying."

"I'm not. Ask Andromeda. She'll remember."

"I won't ask her because I know you're lying. You're a liar. It's what you do."

Bellatrix chortled bitterly. "You can't call truth you don't want to hear a lie, little sister. Or should I call you little half-sister? In any case, the point is, you're weak, you raised your son to be weak - I mean, when you took the time to raise him, not when he was being brought up by a Squib wet nurse and some house elves and a nanny - and now we all have to suffer the consequences of your inadequacies. It's not your fault you weren't a great mother, Narcissa. You didn't have a decent role model. You did the best you could, I'm sure. Unfortunately, it just wasn't good enough."

"What happened to the girl you used to be, Bella?" asked Narcissa. "What has become of the girl so strong she would offer herself up to be molested to protect her baby sister? The girl who taught herself to throw off the Imperius curse by age twelve? The girl who fought back against everyone and every thing her entire childhood no matter the cost? What now? Who are you? Last year, you would've killed me in front of my son if the Dark Lord had ordered it. Killed me, your own sister, in front of my child! But your devotion to Him has never wavered, has it? Not when he didn't find you for weeks after breaking you out of Azkaban, not when He made you use the Cruciatus curse on me, not when He assigned Draco that impossible task, hell, you didn't even question Him when He  _raped_  you, when He cared so little for you and the baby inside you that cursed and beat you and left bruises all over your arms and thighs and throat, when He left Sev – Snape – to save your life without bothering to stick around and see if you could be saved! And now you're raising your daughter to be in loyal, unquestioning service to Him, just as you are?"

Narcissa let out a cruel laugh. Bellatrix clenched her fists, one still wrapped around her wand, and briefly fantasized what it would be like to forgo magic and simply jump on her sister, to punch her and bite her and pull her hair the way she and Andromeda used to do to each other. 

"You're pathetic!" Narcissa continued. "What happens when He wants to punish Nova for her first failure, eh? What happens when He demands you use the Cruciatus Curse on her? What happens if He waits until she's seventeen like you were when He discovered you, and then decides He'd rather take  _her_  to bed than her over-the-hill mother?"

Bellatrix went ghost-white. She clenched her fists again, but this time it was to keep her hands from shaking.

Narcissa went on, ice dripping from her voice. "You'd do  _anything_  for Him, a man who tortures and controls and  _abuses_  you, a man who is incapable of returning even a fraction of the love you feel for Him, a man who gave zero consideration to the baby you claim to love so much when He beat you nearly to death, and you think  _I'm_  the one who's weak? Fuck you, Bellatrix Druella. I must be stronger than any other witch in the Wizarding world, because unlike everyone else, I'm not afraid of you." Narcissa stepped closer to her sister. Were she just a bit taller, they'd be nose to nose. Bellatrix's wand hand twitched, but Narcissa did back down. "Now get out, Bella. I may not be able to kick you out of my home, but I  _can_  throw you out of my room."

Bellatrix raised her wand, placing the tip against her sister's temple, then running it down to her chin, but still Narcissa did not flinch.

"Oh, I'm going," she said, when she realized she could not intimidate her sister. "And for the record, Narcissa Malfoy, you  _should_  be afraid of me. The Dark Lord's never made me do anything I didn't _want_ to do. Keep that in mind."

Narcissa slapped her sister's wand hand away as casually as if swatting a mosquito. "I believe I ordered you to leave."

"With pleasure!" Bellatrix turned and stormed toward the door, then, remembering the reason she'd come in the first place, she did an abrupt turn, shoved her way past Narcissa, and entered the adjoining nursery, where she picked up sleeping Nova from the crib.

"Say goodbye to Auntie Cissy," she said, cradling the infant. "You'll not be seeing her again."

"Good," said Narcissa, not meaning it in the slightest. "You think I'm such a horrible mother, and yet you've been relying on me to raise your child as if she's my own! You think you know everything? Raise her yourself."

"I  _will_  raise her myself!" Bellatrix tossed her wild hair and puffed her chest out arrogantly. "I'll raise her completely by myself because I don't need help from anyone and I'll be the best damn mother any daughter has ever had and my child won't grow up soft like yours!"

"No, she'll grow up to be a soulless, sadistic psychopath, like you!"

This was the last straw. Bellatrix felt her resolve crumbling, her confident facade cracking. Her eyes filled with furious tears. 

"I'd rather have a soulless, sadistic psychopath for a daughter than a… than a… a…" Bellatrix mentally searched for the perfect parting words, but coming up short, she finished: "Than a mean girl like you!"

Once on the other side of the bedroom door, in the hall, Bellatrix could hold back no longer. She burst into tears like her sister used to as a child and leaned against the wall, sobbing. The sound of her sniffles and hiccups woke the baby, who began to cry too. 

"Perfect!" muttered Bellatrix. "Just fucking perfect." 

She stormed off toward her bedroom, running into perhaps the last person she wanted to see in the hall. 

The Dark Lord.

"Master! My Lord! You... you've been gone so much as of late! I didn't... I didn't expect to see you!" She struggled to compose herself, but the tears kept coming. He sneered at her and the baby as if disgusted. 

"Clearly."

"I was... just... I was..."

"Are you content with this baby I gifted you, Bellatrix?" He hissed in a low tone, careful not to be overheard. Her eyes widened with terror as the image of her smooshed face gray kitty popped into her mind. 

"Yes, my Lord! Very happy! But... but not too happy?"

"Not too happy?"

"I mean... I'm exactly as happy as I should be, Master." She bit down hard on her lip. The metallic taste of blood met her tongue. "Please don't make me kill her."

"Please don't... what?" He looked genuinely taken aback. 

"She's not like Mr. Sticky Whiskers!"

"Who?"

"She isn't a cat, my Lord!"

"I... am aware." He was regarding her as if she'd gone daft. She realized He'd probably long forgotten the kitten He'd given her - and later taken away. She felt like an idiot, making a fool of herself in the hall in front of Him, a wailing baby cradled in her arms.

"Write to Severus," the Dark Lord said, pushing past her on His way to His own chambers. "Perhaps He has a potion that can... fix... this." He gestured toward her face. She wiped her nose with the back of her gloved hand. She could only imagine what she looked like in this moment. "Women," muttered the Dark Lord as He continued down the hall with Nagini slithering along beside Him. He glanced down at the snake. "This is precisely why I keep so few around."

* * *

 

It had been several days since Narcissa and Bellatrix last spoke and in that time, Bellatrix, unable to get a break from the infant, went back to looking like she was in desperate need of a shower and a nap. She was certain Narcissa missed caring for the baby as much as Bellatrix missed having breaks from her, but there was no way in hell she would break down and apologize first. Not when Narcissa had said... what she did. Not when she'd insinuated the Dark Lord might kill her baby... or, almost worse, someday take her to bed. 

Easter Sunday passed without incident. The Malfoys went out to eat, Bellatrix didn't know where exactly, and when they returned it was to find her sitting alone in the kitchen, picking her way through a sad looking salad she'd thrown together herself, as she didn't want to face another living thing all day save for her daughter... and that included those obnoxious little house-elves. 

 

 

"Hello, Lucius," Bellatrix said glumly, glancing up as they entered the kitchen. "Happy Easter, Draco." She looked pointedly at Narcissa, then returned her gaze to her bowl without issuing a greeting. She stabbed a cherry tomato with more force than necessary, making red juices squirt out. "Hope you had a nice afternoon at the restaurant."

"You should have come," said Draco, wishing he could mend this feud between his mother and aunt. The Manor was already filled to the brim with tension thanks to the regular presence of the Dark Lord and the constant flow of Death Eaters. It didn't need to be made worse by whatever stupid row the two sisters had gotten themselves into.

"I didn't think I'd be welcome," Bellatrix replied.

"Oh, look at that," said Narcissa in a sarcastic tone. "Something you'd have been right about! What a novelty."

"Did you hear something?" asked Bellatrix. She rose, cupping one of her ears. "It almost sounded like my _half-sister_ Narcissa, but alas, it couldn't be, since her voice no longer works in my presence. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to return to my room to tend to my baby who is being raised by me and only me because I am her mother and a decent mother doesn't need anyone else to help her raise her child."

Narcissa's wand hand twitched. Draco sighed. Lucius shook his head.

"Bloody impossible women," he muttered under his breath, heading out of the kitchen. "Come along, Draco!"

Bellatrix made to exit behind them, but Narcissa stood in the doorway, blocking her path.

"I am  _not_  your half-sister," she snapped, glaring into Bella's dark eyes. Bellatrix sneered and tossed her hair haughtily. 

"Half-sister, half-blood, half-witted… Who knows what you are, really? Father certainly didn't. I mean,  _my_  father didn't. Not sure about yours. Whoever he was."

Bellatrix tried to push past but Narcissa wouldn't step aside.

"I think you should know, I hate you," snapped Narcissa.

"I hate you more," replied Bellatrix.

"Not possible. I hate you more than anyone has ever hated anyone else in the entire history of the world."

"Funny," said Bellatrix mockingly. "I must be one for making history, then, because _I hate you twice that."_

"You sound like children!" Lucius called from down the hall. "Grow up!"

"Sod off!" Bellatrix and Narcissa called back in unison.

"Let me by," said Bellatrix. "I need to take a shower while my baby's still asleep."

"You  _should_  take a shower," said Narcissa, stepping aside. "Your hair is dirty and you look like hell."

Bellatrix leaned in close and lowered her voice. "Speaking of  _dirty,_  who do you think you're fooling, using makeup to cover that love bite on your neck? How did it get there, Narcissa? Certainly not a gift from your estranged husband?" It was no secret the two were now sleeping in separate bedrooms, much like Bellatrix and Rodolphus.

"Speaking of  _estranged husbands_ ," said Narcissa, voice just as low, but she couldn't help letting her hand go to her throat to cover the mark that Severus made. "Where's yours? He's around less and less since you bore that bastard baby six weeks ago."

"My baby…" Bellatrix straightened up and stepped away. "My baby is no concern of yours. She's already forgotten you."

"Until the next time the Dark Lord sends you off  _'on business,'_ " (Narcissa made air quotes) "And you need to leave her with me for an entire day. It must be exhausting, the work you do for Him. So much time spent in bed, so little of it spent sleeping."

"Fuck you and your false superiority," said Bellatrix. "I'm not a whore and you know it."

"Do I?" asked Narcissa. "I was under the impression we hardly know each other at all. As you said, we can't even be sure we're fully sisters, can we?"

Bellatrix flipped off Narcissa before stalking off down the hall. 

An hour later, Bellatrix sat in her bedroom, breastfeeding Nova, and listing for her all of the reasons they shouldn't care if they never speak to Auntie Cissy again, none of which she truly meant.

Once the baby was asleep, Bellatrix placed her carefully in her bassinet. She stood over her, stroking her soft hair and soft cheek and the back of her soft little fist. 

This baby was a gift. A gift from her Master. 

But not a gift like the cat had been. The cat was just a cat. Just a fluffy, lovey, smoosh-faced cat. One He found for her, not one He made with her. 

It wasn't the same.

This baby was a gift. His gift. 

And His baby. 

There was no way He would ever let harm come to her. There was no way He'd ask Bellatrix to do to Nova what He'd ordered her to do to the cat. 

It wasn't the same.

This baby, like the ring He gave her for Christmas, was a gift. And the cat had been a gift. 

But it wasn't the same. 

"Please," she whispered, staring at the ceiling above her, praying to Merlin-only-knows-what. "Please, don't let it be the same."


	16. ROBBED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellatrix didn't intend to point the Golden Trio in the direction of her Gringotts vault while torturing Hermione, but that's exactly what she's done. Now Hufflepuff's cup is gone and the Dark Lord is angry. Huddled in her room at Malfoy Manor, clutching her infant daughter, Bellatrix awaits His wrath, unaware that she has less than a day left to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not been on this site in forever, for which I apologize. I am much more active on ffnet because I find this site harder to navigate, especially as until recently I only had regular internet access via cell phone, but now I have a new laptop and WiFi and am dedicating myself to updating all three of my fics, including this one. Thank you to anyone sticking with it! -AL

 

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN:** **ROBBED**

No. It couldn't be.

Gringotts was safe.

Protected.

Under their control.

How could three teenagers possibly manage to break in, enter her vault, and remove the one thing He trusted her to protect? Everyone knew Gringotts was the safest place in the Wizarding World to hide anything, save, perhaps, for Hogwarts.

How could she have let this happen?

How could those goblins have let the kids escape?

How was her Master going to punish her when He returned?

She fingered the thin silver band on her right ring finger.  _"You belong to me,"_  the inscription read, His Christmas gift for her.

"Yes," she whispered, turning it around so the three small emeralds faced out. "Please don't be angry, Master. Please…"

A whimpering from the crib in the corner of the room cut through the silence, shaking her. The whimper grew to a cry.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," she snapped, but she immediately felt guilty for it. She was exorbitantly proud of the fact that she'd carried and birthed the baby of the Dark Lord and loved the little girl more than she'd ever thought she could love anyone or anything, but had she known how much work motherhood would be, she might have thought twice before conceiving.

She reached into the crib, lifting out the two-month-old, who was born slightly premature and now weighed eight pounds at eight weeks old, up three since birth.

"You're hungry," said Bellatrix. "I'll feed you fast. You need to be asleep before He gets here. He will be angry, Nova."

Nova was the name she had given the baby. Nova Black. She couldn't let it share her last name, a name she acquired through marriage, given that her husband was not the baby's father. Only she and her sister Narcissa ever used the baby's name, though. Rodolphus made sure never to refer to her as anything but "it," and only when absolutely necessary, while the Dark Lord simply called her "your baby," to which Bellatrix tended to reply, " _Our_  baby."

Aside from her family (two brothers-in-law, one nephew, both sisters, and presumably her niece) the only one aware of the girl's existence was suspected double-agent Severus Snape, who had thus far only referred to Nova as "she" and "her."

Despite the secrecy surrounding her very existence, Bellatrix adored her daughter, and relished in calling her "Nova Black," almost as if it were one word. The name Nova was in keeping with those of the members of the Black family. A nova was an explosion on a dwarf star. Bellatrix was named for the third brightest star in the constellation Orion. Draco, Narcissa, Andromeda, Sirius, and Regulus all had names that derived from stars or constellations too, as did a great many of their ancestors. Her only regret was that she couldn't add "Riddle" after Black, but since she knew how He felt about His birth name, she never suggested it.

To quiet the baby's crying, Bellatrix partially unbuttoned and parted the front of her dress, then slipped down her bra, positioning Nova so she could comfortably latch on. Then Bella slumped into the corner of the room by the crib, leaning against the wall for support, watching her baby suckle peacefully, no longer needing to wail. She couldn't help smiling slightly at the sight. She knew the breastfeeding disgusted her sister Narcissa ("Why do you have to do that?" she'd asked on more than one occasion) but Bellatrix couldn't understand how feeding her baby the way nature intended was any grosser than hiring a squib wet nurse to do it, and she certainly couldn't go off buying bottles and formula without arousing suspicion, especially as she was one of His followers to have been put on a Home Arrest of sorts three weeks ago, punishment for Potter's escape from Malfoy Manor. That was when Bellatrix lost her wand.

How she missed that damn wand.

She'd had it since she was eleven years old. It should have been snapped in two when she went to Azkaban, but thankfully her mother's connections saved it (placed in Narcissa's care) before their falling out and her subsequent imprisonment. When Cissy returned it to her after the mass breakout of Azkaban three and a half years ago, Bellatrix felt like she'd been reunited with an old friend. Now, who knows where it was? Stolen by those rotten children. Being used for  _good, not evil,_  no doubt. Disgusting.

Those rotten, lucky children, who had a knack for getting themselves out of spots no witch or wizard ought to be able to manage.

 _How_  had they finagled their way into her vault?

The Gringotts goblins knew her wand had been stolen. There was a chance the vile Boy-Who-Lived and his pals might use it for such a purpose. So had the goblins been in on the deception, or…

The Imperius Curse, perhaps? Would Potter stoop to using an Unforgivable?

He'd tried, once. On her. "Crucio!" He'd called, when they battled at the Ministry. She could recall laughing, telling him, "You've got to  _mean_  it!"

So she shouldn't put it past him.

"Your father might well kill me tonight, Nova Black," Bellatrix whispered. Completely unaware that anything was amiss, the baby was still drinking her mother's milk, as peaceful as could be. Bellatrix stroked the infant's pale cheek. She was a strikingly beautiful baby. When Bellatrix pointed this out to her youngest sister, Narcissa had laughed.

"All mothers think their babies are the most beautiful babies ever born. I was so in love with Draco, I thought no baby before or since had ever been so precious."

Bellatrix snorted. "Draco? Please. He had red blotches all over his face and his head was weirdly shaped."

"His head was  _not_  weirdly shaped!" Narcissa had put her hands on her hips, indignant. "He got a little stuck when he was coming out and had to be pulled along by a mediwitch, that's all. He was fine in a few days! And I think his red spots were cute!"

"Yeah, real cute," Bellatrix had replied sarcastically. "Nothing says cute like a bad case of spattergroit."

Narcissa's eyes flashed. "He did  _not_  look like he had spattergroit!"

In the interest of ending the argument, Bellatrix had relented, but now, as she sat cradling her baby in the corner of the room by the crib, she whispered, "Your cousin Draco was born with a weird-shaped head, he was splotchy-red-faced, and he was huge. Nine pounds at birth. Nine! With crooked feet because he didn't have enough space in the womb. If there's ever been an uglier baby I've not seen it. Not you, though, Nova Black. You're perfection. The best looking baby in the entire history of the Black family, with the possible exception of myself." She paused, considering. "Perhaps we're tied. But the point is, you're beautiful. Not at all like deformed Draco or ugly half-blood Nymphadora."

Truthfully, Bellatrix had no idea what Andromeda's daughter Nymphadora Tonks had looked like as a baby, but she imagined since the girl was a metamorph she probably had purple hair or a kitten's nose or something equally stupid, and Nymphadora's newborn son, Bella's great-nephew, was rumored to be just as abnormal.

"My cousin Regulus got an eye infection at four days old, so he was hideous when I first saw him. Sirius was yellow from jaundice, my sister Andromeda was so pale you could see her veins, and your Auntie Narcissa… well, actually, Narcissa wasn't awful looking, but her ears stuck out, they still do, which is why she wears her hair down over them even now. Not one of them was anywhere near as pretty as you are."

As a matter of fact, mot only was Bellatrix absolutely certain there had never been a more beautiful baby in the Black family than the one she herself had given birth to only eight weeks ago (approximately five or six weeks early), but she suspected there'd never been a more perfect baby born anywhere else in the entire world.

Baby Nova had large blue-gray eyes that had already started to darken with time and a head of thick black hair, though some of it had already fallen out (especially in the back) which Narcissa assured her was normal. Her pale skin was free of the imperfections Draco had been plagued with, and she had the sweetest, tiniest little eyelashes, and fat squishy kneecaps, and itty bitty fingernails on slender little fingers that wrapped around Bellatrix's finger whenever possible. Currently those soft baby hands were curled into fists resting on her breast. The suckling slowed, signifying Nova was getting full and falling asleep. Bellatrix leaned over to sniff her daughter's head. This is the smell she imagined Amortentia giving off, though it used to make her smell burning candles and the late summer air after a rainstorm.

Though Bellatrix had decided to breastfeed the baby mostly out of necessity, she hadn't forgotten Andromeda's words of warning about how fat Narcissa had gotten during her pregnancy and remained afterward. According to Andromeda, breastfeeding takes the weight right off, and Bella thought it seemed to be working, though she supposed worry and lack of food might have had something to do with that, too. She was almost back down to her pre-Azkaban weight (before she was toeing the line of emaciation) but she figured as long as she ate enough to feed her child all was well.

"He may hurt me," whispered Bellatrix to the sleeping baby, "But He will never hurt you. I wouldn't let Him. I wouldn't let anyone. I will protect you for your entire life, in all the ways my useless mother should have protected me."

She attempted to pull Nova away from her body, intending to burp her, but instead the motion prompted the baby to again begin suckling, as if waking up ever-so-slightly reminded her she was indeed still hungry.

Using wandless magic, Bellatrix summoned a blanket from the bed over to the corner and wrapped it around them. She was trembling, shivering, but the blanket hardly helped since cold was not the issue, terror was.

He'd been absolutely furious three weeks ago when Harry Potter and friends escaped, and even more so when she admitted that she wasn't sure whether Helga Hufflepuff's cup was still safe inside her vault at Gringotts. He'd insisted someone check but it could not be her, so He sent Rodolphus. While her husband was gone, He tortured the rest of them, including her, her nephew, both of her brothers-in-law (Rabastan and Lucius), and even her sister, Naricssa, who'd never experienced the Cruciatus Curse before and was in bed complaining of pain for two days afterward. Bellatrix had dealt with the stress of it by murdering the Snatchers she'd previously only stunned, save for Fenrir Greyback the werewolf. Surprisingly, killing them hadn't made her feel any better, and she'd returned to the bedroom of her daughter feeling hollow and defeated.

When she'd entered, to her surprise, He was already there, bent over the crib. A sick feeling rose from her stomach into her chest and up through her throat.

"My Lord?" she whispered, almost too terrified to speak. Surely He wouldn't punish her by hurting His own child.

"She was crying," He said. The chill in His voice gave her goose bumps. "If you're going to have a child, Bellatrix, you should be a better mother. Where were you while your baby was crying?"

The baby was silent. Bellatrix was too afraid to move further into the room, unsure of what she'd find in the crib.

"I thought the Snatchers deserved to die for their mistakes," she said quietly. "Please, is my daughter…?"

" _Our_  daughter," He said. It was the first time He'd been the one to make that correction. "She was crying because you didn't return. I trusted you, Bellatrix. I trusted you to carry my heir. I trusted you to watch over Hufflepuff's cup. I trusted you to keep safe –"

"I did, my Lord! Hufflepuff's cup is safe, I'm sure of it; it is still in my vault! The girl said the sword, it's a copy! Just a copy! The goblin confirmed it. Rodolphus, when he returns, he'll tell you, I promise. And I hurt her, my Lord. I hurt her badly. If she was lying to me, I would know it. She  _swore_  they'd never been in my vault. Please, sir… our daughter…?"

"Is fine." He stepped away from the crib. "I held her awhile. She stopped crying. See for yourself."

Bellatrix rushed over. The baby was asleep on her back, her tummy and chest rising and falling with each breath. She looked to be completely unharmed. Bella let out a breath she'd hadn't realized she was holding, suddenly aware that He'd claimed to have held the baby to quiet her. If that was true, it was the first time since the morning of her birth five weeks before that He'd touched her, or even really looked at her.

"I take care of what's mine," He said, tugging gently on one of Bellatrix's curls, drawing her closer. "Or don't you remember?"

"I remember." She lifted the sleeping newborn from the crib and cradled her in her arms, gently kissing her forehead, not wanting to wake her but not willing to put her back down.

He placed His hand under His mistress's chin, the same way He had the night He'd learned what her stepfather had been doing to her and her sisters. Just as He had that night, He ran His thumb over her bottom lip, then, more gently than she was used to, He kissed her.

"I hated having to punish you tonight," He murmured when they parted, "But you disappointed me so. You  _had_  Potter. You had him and his friends right here, locked in the dungeon. All you had to do was call for me to finish him off."

"We weren't sure it was him, my Lord. Draco… Potter's face was messed up. A stinging hex, I think. Even Draco wasn't sure he recognized him. We didn't want to bother you… if we were wrong."

"But when you were sure…" Now He pushed the strand of curly black hair He'd tugged back behind her ear and traced down her side with His fingertips, His hand coming to rest on her hip. "You still did not call me, Bella."

"I thought… I thought the girl had been in my vault, my Lord," her voice cracked. She hugged her sleeping baby tighter. "I thought you would be angry."

"I  _am_  angry."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry is not enough, Bella." He placed His left hand on the top of baby Nova's head, stroking her soft hair with His thumb. "You owe me."

"Yes, my Lord."

"You'll pay for this."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Put your baby back in her crib, Bella."

The knot forming in Bellatrix's stomach pulled tighter. He removed his hand from Nova's head. Bellatrix kissed the baby on her pale cheek, then placed her gently on her back in the crib as ordered. Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest she almost couldn't believe it hadn't woken Nova up with the noise of it before setting her down.

"What are you going to do to me, my Lord?" she asked, eyes wide.

"I think you know," He said. His hand entangled itself in the back of her hair. He steered her roughly to the bed, throwing her down. "You owe me."

"Yes, my Lord."

"You'll not object? Not beg or plead or fight back?" He seemed… disappointed when she shook her head. "Pity."

They hadn't been together since Christmas night, the night He'd given her the ring and summoned her to His chambers. That night had hurt, even though He hadn't been rough with her. It hurt because she was still so badly battered from having been brutally raped by Him less than 48 hours earlier. For months after that, He'd not shown any sexual interest in her, so she assumed He was getting what He needed from someone else, which hurt in a different way. That said, over the next few months, He had occasionally allowed her to share His bed overnight. She'd given birth in March, a month prior to the Easter holiday when Draco came home, and just days later, His physical desire for her returned, but she was not ready. He pinned her against a wall, kissing at her neck and shoulder, running His hands all over her, but she begged Him to wait, insisting that her body had been through too much and she couldn't even think of being intimate at the moment, explaining that she was still bleeding and sore and simply not ready. To her surprise, He had relented.

"I will give you time," He'd said.

Obviously, time was up.

His hand returned to her hair. He turned her over so she was facing the mattress and used His free hand to pin her wrists together above her head.

"You failed me, you worthless bitch." He used his knee to part her legs then bit her – hard – on the right shoulder. Her dress had little cutouts there, so rather than finding material in His mouth, His teeth made full contact with her skin, drawing blood. She yelped, then bit her tongue, hoping the baby would not awaken. He pulled her hair, yanking back her head, stretching her neck. "You could have given me Potter. It's all I've asked, and I would have rewarded you."

"I'm sorry, Master."

"Not yet, but you are going to be." His free hand made its way beneath her, grabbing her aggressively between her legs, and even through the cloth of her dress, it hurt. "It's all I've asked of you, isn't it? That you bring me Potter. It's all I've asked of any of you, and you couldn't even do that, could you? You pathetic cunt. You waste of magic. You wandless whore."

"I'm sorry, my Lord," she whispered. "I'll not fail you again."

"No," He agreed. "You won't." He turned her over onto her back, releasing her wrists, and slapped her hard against the face. She wondered if this would be like the last time, when He'd discovered she'd had sex with her husband after having conceived His child, and He'd responded by torturing her into near-death. She promised herself no matter what He did, she would not start crying. The days of being overly-emotional ended with the end of her pregnancy. She was herself again. Headstrong. Independent. Arrogant.

A touch of crazy.

"Tell me," He said, a cold voice in her ear that gave her a chill, as His hand slid from between her legs to the front of her throat, "What was it like, torturing the girl?"

Bellatrix gasped for air, but was surprised to find His grip wasn't restricting it. He didn't even sound angry now. Suddenly He sounded almost… envious. Hoping she was reading Him right, she smiled and slipped her own hand over His, indicating He could put a bit more pressure on her throat – though not too much, as she still wanted to be able to speak.

"I had Cissy throw the boys to Wormtail," said Bellatrix, noticing that her Master's thin-slit eyes narrowed further at mention of the traitor's name, "So the girl and I could have a little chat, just us."

"And then…" He moved His hand slightly and lowered Himself closer to nip repeatedly at her neck. In response, she raked her fingernails up His back. She could feel His heart beating faster as her own pulse quickened rapidly. He flicked His tongue over the spot He'd just bit. There would be a bruise there. She couldn't hold back a moan.

They were both still dressed, but surely not for much longer.

"I hit her with the Cruciatus Curse a few times to start. When she was on the floor, crying, I positioned myself over her…"

"Did you?" He asked, an unnerving gleam in his eye. "Show me."

Her breath hitched in her throat. Eager to please, Bellatrix flipped them over so that she was on top of Him.

"Like this," she whispered. "With her arms out…" She moved His arms so they straight were out by His sides, the way she had done with the Granger girl. "She was crying. I don't think she'd ever been hit with the Cruciatus Curse before."

"Show me," He repeated. "Do it."

"You… you want me to curse you?"

"If you don't think you can…" He said this with disdain, as if perhaps He thought she was too weak.

"Crucio," she whispered, mere inches from His ear. Beneath her, His body twitched, but He was still in control. She hadn't been forceful enough. She needed her wand… and the will. She pictured that fucking house elf, unscrewing the chandelier, nearly killing her, making her lose her grasp on the girl, ensuring their escape. That did it. "Crucio!" Now the Dark Lord writhed beneath her, a slight smile on His face, enjoying her torment. She couldn't help herself – though His body was still jerking with the effects of the Curse, she kissed Him. He parted His lips to grant entrance to her tongue as she pressed her body flush against His, grinding against His pelvis with her own. He reached His hand up and entangled it in her hair, as He was wont to do, and pulled her mouth away from His.

"What's next?" He hissed.

"She wouldn't tell me what I wanted to know," said Bellatrix quickly, hoping to skip by the fact that she'd been certain they'd broken into her vault because they had the sword of Gryffindor. "So I had to get creative. I took out my knife…"

"Where is your knife?"

Her breath hitched in her throat. "It… I left it in one of them. I threw it. You know I've always been good with a knife."

"You can torture Mudbloods with Muggle methods as well as you can magical ones, Bella." This was clearly a compliment. His hand slid from her hair down her neck and spine, resting on her lower back. "What did you do to her with your knife?"

She could feel His length growing larger between her legs. She grinded again on top of Him, this time pulling herself up so she was straddling His thighs, positioned directly over His hardness. She rocked ever-so-slightly back and forth on Him as she continued. "First I put it to her lovely little throat, where my wand had been, but still she wouldn't tell me anything. So I had to resort to… more… drastic… measures." With each of those last three words she thrust determinedly against Him. He groaned, placing His hands on her thighs to keep her still. Her lips curled into a satisfied smile as she went on.

"I leaned close to her…" She leaned close to Him, "And I said, 'I'll give you one more chance to save yourself,' but still she said nothing. So I took my knife, placed it against her arm, and began to carve…" For this, Bellatrix used her sharp right index fingernail against His left forearm. "M-U-D-B-L-O-O-D. Deep enough to bleed, not so deep that it couldn't be read." She ducked her head down over His forearm, where she'd just pretended to write, and licked over the pale white scratch marks from her nail.

"Bella…" He moaned. She knew He was close. She might not even have to give herself to Him if He finished before they'd even started. Not that she didn't  _want_  to be with Him. She did. She simply wasn't sure whether her post-baby body was ready.

(And part of her also wanted Him to leave so she could more thoroughly check on her daughter.)

"Tell me…" He groaned, digging His fingers into the backs of her thighs. "Tell me the rest."

"The girl assured me the sword was a fake. I sent for Griphook to confirm. While we waited for him, I cursed her several more times, over, and over, and over again, until she passed out… I did it just for fun…" Bella's voice trailed off. This was when everything went south, when Potter and Weasley entered, disarming her. When she put the knife to Granger's throat, only to be nearly killed by that insubordinate house elf that formerly belonged to Malfoy. She threw the knife in one final attempt at revenge, knowing the Dark Lord was on His way, and it had struck the elf – yes, she always hit her mark – but what good had it done? Even if he was dead, Potter had escaped.

"Did you touch her?" asked the Dark Lord, unknowingly giving Bellatrix a way out of ending the story as it truly had.

"I may have. My fingertips may have grazed lightly against her skin, may have made their way over her perky little chest, and down… down…" she said seductively, moving her fingers down from His chest to His groin, even though she hadn't actually done any of those things to the Granger girl. Bella moved her lips close to His ear, so they were barely touching His skin when she spoke, as her hand gripped Him  _there_  and began to stroke. "We were so close, like this, when I was on top of her… holding her down… she's pretty, for a Mudblood, don't you think? We could have enjoyed her, together, the way we used to, during the first war. Would you have liked that? Maybe we could've bound Potter nearby, made him watch, helpless, while she screamed."

The Dark Lord brought his hand up to her breast and squeezed, a feeling she would have welcomed in the past, but given she'd spent the last month using her breasts solely for feeding her daughter the sensation was uncomfortable for her at best. She moved His hand down to her ass and kissed Him soundly, resuming her earlier gyrations, hoping He wouldn't want to put His mouth on her. She was in luck.

"Now," He growled, forcing up her long black dress, tearing her underwear away. She worked His robe, removing it just enough, and in seconds He was inside her. Still on top of Him, she bucked her hips, spurred on by His hands on her waist and the way His eyes closed contentedly. "Faster!" He hissed and she obliged.

It occurred to her that they'd all been tortured that evening – she, Narcissa, Lucius, Draco, Rabastan – but now the others had gone back to their rooms, likely licking their wounds, angry, embittered, and in pain, while here she was, providing the Dark Lord with a service she was suddenly certain He no longer sought from anyone else, a comforting notion.

Yet she felt oddly conflicted. Sometimes it was difficult, being so in love with a man who didn't return it, accepting that He could cause her so much physical, emotional, and even sexual pain and then, only a short time later, bring her so much pleasure. Especially now that she had her daughter – their daughter – connecting her to Him and signifying (to her, anyway) that she was worth so much more than any of His other followers had even been or would ever be, it fucked with her head knowing that this man she pledged her loyalty to, a man for whom she would die, could easily kill her for displeasing Him as He claimed He'd considered doing that evening. She rode Him until He came and, satiated, left her alone in the room. With their daughter.

Now, three weeks later, she was again in danger of being killed by her lover, her Master, for precisely the thing that had stopped her from immediately summoning Him when they had Potter in their clutches. The so-called Golden Trio had broken into her Gringotts vault. They had stolen the one thing He'd demanded she keep safe – Hufflepuff's cup.

What's more, they'd done it because she'd led them right there, by panicking when she saw the sword in the Snatcher's hand, by demanding the girl tell her what else they had taken.

It was all her fault.

He would know it was all her fault.

And she was terrified.


	17. HELP

**CHAPTER TWO:** **HELP**

Time was passing and yet He hadn't arrived. He must know by now what happened at Gringotts. She imagined the whole Wizarding World must know by now. The damn kids had broken out of the place on the back of a half-blind dragon, for Merlin's sake. There was no hiding something like that, even if one was in charge of the Ministry, the Daily Prophet, and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hogwarts.

Snape.

Snape was at Hogwarts.

Snape was the Dark Lord's most trusted servant, His most loyal… after herself, of course. Also, Snape had been the one given the task of placing the sword in her vault in the first place, so maybe he would feel personally connected... indebted... responsible. Would that matter? Could she convince him to come to her aid? It was possible, she supposed. Anything was possible. Besides, they had history. He couldn't just ignore that, right? Going to him for help was a long shot but she was desperate.

"Come on," she whispered to the baby, removing her from her breast, resting her against her chest with the baby's head by her shoulder. She patted Nova's back, waiting for a burp. "We're going on your first trip to Hogwarts."

But how would she get there?

Side-along apparition was possible with a baby, but could be dangerous, especially if attempted without her wand. She needed a wand.

She couldn't take Draco's – he'd lost his too. She couldn't take Narcissa's – she'd given hers to Draco. The Dark Lord himself had used Lucius' wand until it was destroyed. Those damn kids had stolen Pettigrew's along with her own, and there was no chance her husband would give up his. She  _had_  stolen one off a Snatcher she killed three weeks back, but the Dark Lord confiscated it an hour later, telling her He didn't think she deserved one for the time being. Presumably He also took the others before having the house elves dispose of their bodies.

That left Rabastan.

Finally, the baby let out a little burp. Hurriedly Bellatrix fixed her dress, threw on a traveling cloak, wrapped the infant in a thick blanket, and went to find her brother-in-law.

He was alone in the kitchen, drinking what appeared to be scotch.

"You," she said, pointing a bony finger at him, holding a sleeping Nova Black in the crux of her left arm. "I need your wand."

He laughed, downed the rest of his drink, and turned to face her.

"My wand? Why would I go and give you that. You couldn't hold onto your own. You don't deserve mine."

"It wasn't a request. I need it. Now. You'll get it back."

"You  _need_  it?" Again, he laughed. She momentarily envisioned how great it would feel to punch him in his haggard face, perhaps break a crooked tooth or two. "So you need it. So what?"

"I need it to travel with the baby. I  _don't_ need it to curse you into insanity. Hand it over. I said you'll get it back."

"I don't trust you."

"Hand it over."

"Or what? You'll beat me about the head with that bastard baby of yours?"

Heat resonated from her fingertips. She was sick of his attitude, unwilling to ask again (plus, nobody insulted her baby). With a flick of her wrist, he found himself being choked by an unseen force. His hands climbed to this throat as if trying to pull away a cord or rope but they found nothing there.

"If you wish to breathe again," she said, her voice lilting, "You'll give me the wand. Otherwise I'll simply take it after you're dead."

Rabastan thrust his hand into the pocket of his robes and held the wand out to her. His eyes bulged, silently begging her to lift this curse. She smiled.

"Thanks so much." She flicked the wand. Rabastan was again able to breathe and took advantage of that to eek out, "Bitch!"

"I get called that on the regular," she said. "I'm starting to think of it as my middle name. Bellatrix Bitch Black Lestrange. How does it sound?"

"Sounds better without the Lestrange," he said, still rubbing his sore throat. She spit on the floor by his feet. Without further discussion, she held baby Nova tight, closed her eyes, and apparated.

Moments later, she was standing inside the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. She walked from there to the castle (unaware of the tunnel she'd be traveling through in a few hours time) at the quickest possible pace. Thankfully, the baby continued to sleep. When she was close enough, she opened her traveling cloak, slipped the baby inside, and tied it shut again.

She was worried she'd have difficulty getting inside Hogwarts, but by a stroke of luck, Alecto Carrow was guarding the door, scolding students for something or other.

"I need to see the Headmaster," Bellatrix said loftily, attempted to push past her.

"Wait a second," said Alecto, grabbing Bella by the arm. "Who're you?"

"You know who I am," said Bellatrix. "You blithering idiot, you've known me for twenty-five years."

"How do I know you ain't that girl again, in disguise? I heard she got into Gringotts pretending to be you. Plus the Dark Lord says you can't leave your sister's house, so whatchyoo doin' here anyway? And what's that you got under your cloak?

 _"_ _Please don't cry,"_  Bellatrix thought as she felt the baby stir. If the baby cried now, she'd certainly be found out.

"Hello? I asked, what's that…"

"What I've got is no concern of yours," she answered haughtily. "The Dark Lord sent me to see Severus. I haven't got much time. When He returns to Malfoy Manor and I'm not there because I've been held up here, how do you think He'll react? Do you think He'll be happy about the delay, Alecto? However He feels, I'll be sure to send Him your way to express it."

Perhaps it was the sharpness of her voice, or maybe Alecto was simply too afraid of the possibility of a visit from the Dark Lord to argue further, but she seemed to accept this. "So sorry, Mrs. Lestrange. Do come in."

"Don't call me Mrs. Lestrange," snapped Bellatrix. She strode quickly by, heading straight for the Headmaster's office, the location of which she remembered from her own days at Hogwarts when she was seventeen, the evening Dumbledore had called her in, scolded her, and given her detention for practicing a few questionable jinxes on a pair of obnoxious Slytherin first years who'd been caught gossiping about her in the common room. It was her second time being assigned detention, though this was for only one night, not every night for two weeks, which had been assigned shortly after she'd spent the night with Him (which required sneaking away from a Hogsmeade visit). That indiscretion also lost her the title of Head Girl, something she'd only been bestowed in the first place because Professor Slughorn (head of Slytherin house) was so hopelessly charmed by her. She was replaced by her own cousin, Zillah Rosier.

She got past the statue blocking the Headmaster's office easily enough, having guessed the password (Lily. How disgustingly predictable) then banged on the door until he answered.

"Who is it?" he snapped as he opened it. When he saw her, his dark eyes widened. "You… what… Get in here."

She entered. He closed the door. She slipped sleeping Nova out from under her cloak.

His mouth dropped open. "You brought the baby?"

"No," said Bellatrix. "I left her at home, alone. She's a whole two months old now, practically self-sufficient, can even change her own nappies."

"She'd better be left home," he replied, "She'd better be here only as a figment of my imagination. Because the Dark Lord's going to kill you for leaving, then bring you back to life and kill you again for taking  _her_  out of Malfoy Manor, and then who'll be left to play Mummy?"

She sighed, momentarily defeated. "Snape, I need help. That's why I'm here. It couldn't wait."

" _What is it with the women in your family_?" he asked, clearly exasperated. "Why look to me for help?"

She sneered. "Who else in my family is looking to you for help?"

In her arms, baby Nova roused. With a whimper, she opened her eyes and blinked up at the lights above, mildly curious but mostly unfocused. The whimper became a cry that grew to a wail.

"Shh," cooed Bellatrix, slightly bouncing her. She slipped her index finger into the baby's mouth. Nova ceased crying and, comforted, immediately began to suck. "Yes, that's right. Back to sleep. Mummy's trying to work our way out of this mess."

"Which mess?" asked Snape in his usual drawl. "Leaving despite being expressly forbidden to do so? Bringing  _that_  out –" he indicated the infant, "Even though you know He wants no one to know of her, or…"

"Surely you heard about Gringotts?"

"I heard, yes."

"He's going to kill me, Severus!"

"Since when are we on a first name basis, Lestrange?"

She bristled. "You know I'm not using my husband's name anymore. But that's neither here nor there. Please, you've got to help me, to do  _something_. The Dark Lord trusts you. He values you. He… years ago, he made you a promise didn't he? He promised He wouldn't hurt her, your Muggle-born, He wouldn't kill her, but He did, didn't He?" She sounded mad, desperate. He opened his mouth to reply but she barreled on. "He owes you, doesn't He? He owes you a favor. So… so perhaps you could ask Him… if He could spare me my punishment… and in exchange… for you, I could..."

"There is nothing you could offer me in exchange, Bellatrix, that would entice me to beg him for mercy on your behalf."

"Really?" She raised an eyebrow, stepping closer to him, her eyes looking him up and down. "I'm sure I could think of something."

"You're not going to appeal to me using sex," he said, voice dripping with disdain. "For one, you're not nearly as attractive as you used to be."

"I've lost more than half the baby weight…"

"I don't mean that, though I do have to say it's fascinating to see you attempt to behave seductively whilst cradling an eight-week-old. Not a good look for you. But I meant you're not half as attractive as you were before Azkaban."

"You do fourteen years in that hell and come out of it looking good." She glared at him. She was aware of the negative effect prison had had on her skin, her shape, her teeth, her hair… her mental state… but fuck, she could – and did – still turn heads. "I seem to recall a time just after I got out of Azkaban during which you felt quite differently."

He was unmoved. "A momentary lapse in judgment, I assure you."

"I'll have you know there are plenty of men who would gladly  _risk their lives_  just to lay down with me."

"Good," said Snape. "Get one of them to address the Dark Lord on your behalf."

She switched to a different tactic: pouting. "Please, Snape. I need help. I need  _you._  I'm scared."

"Come off it," he said, waving her away as if she were but a bug. "That look suits you even less."

Again, she made an attempt to appeal to him, this time more menacingly. "He seeks the allegiance of the Elder Wand, Snape. He has it in His possession, He has for two months…"

"I'm aware," began Snape, but she interjected.

"Only He has failed to truly gain its power. Why do you suppose that is?"

"I don't know, Bellatrix." He rolled his eyes. "Tell me."

"Because of you. You killed Dumbledore. You, Snape, are the true master of the Elder Wand, and as long as you are still alive, the Dark Lord won't be in command. If this notion occurs to Him, He'll sure ki…"

"Are you threatening me?" Snape took several steps forward, so much so she had to step back until she hit the bookcase behind her, knocking off several leatherbound plays by someone named Shakespeare. Bella removed her fingers from the baby's mouth, thus Nova began to cry. As much as she'd hate to admit it, Bellatrix rather felt like crying too.

"Snape, I'm simply saying…"

"Do not threaten me, Bellatrix. It would be most… unwise… for you to put such an idea in the Dark Lord's head. Understand? Now you should leave. He will be expecting you when He returns to Malfoy Manor."

"I have to do something!" she shouted desperately over the infant's wails. "I'm desperate!"

"I am not interested in taking advantage of your desperation, nor do I believe it is prudent for you to be here at all. I believe you have forgotten who I am. I am the Headmaster of this school, an agent of the Dark Lord, and a capable potions master. That is all. Nowhere in any of my job descriptions have the words 'family counselor' ever appeared."

"Who else in my damn family is coming to you for counseling?" she asked, realizing he hadn't answered her when she'd asked a short time ago.

"When Nymphadora wanted to know whether the Dark Lord would be prepared for a fight when the Order removed Potter from his aunts house, she came to me. When Andromeda wanted to get a message to you concerning her pregnant daughter, she came to me. When Narcissa wanted protection for her son in light of his task, she came to me. Now you want someone to appeal on your behalf to the Dark Lord, so you've come to me."

"What can I say?" asked Bellatrix, trying to look sweet. "We like you."

He stared at her for a long moment before cracking up. Laughter was an odd look on him. "No, you don't! You hate me!"

"Well, Narcissa likes you, I think."

"I would think so," he agreed. "And Andromeda certainly seems to like me."

"Are you sleeping with Andromeda?"

"Why are you always so concerned about with whom everyone is sleeping? No, I'm not. Despite being widowed, she has no interest in any man besides her husband, nor has she ever. That is the difference between her and the two of you. She married for love."

"She married a Mudblood."

"At least her husband never ran around behind her back, right?" He smiled, which pissed Bellatrix off even more. "Not that you didn't do you own fair share of running around."

"Damn it." She moved the baby to a vertical position, supporting her body with her left arm and stroking her hair with her right hand, then bounced her lightly, but Nova would not stop crying. "Do you mind if I feed her? She'll only stop if I feed her."

"Do I mind…?"

Without waiting for further response, she unbuttoned her dress, this time allowing the baby to latch to the other side. Catching his semi-repulsed expression, she chuckled.

"It isn't as if you've never seen me half-naked before, Snape."

"This is different," he said. "This is… humanizing."

"Sod off."

"You're charming, has anyone ever told you that?"

"I fucked you  _one time_  and you can't get over it, is that it? Is that why you won't try to help me?"

"You fucked me twice," he said, expressionless. "Remember?"

"The first time doesn't count," she said. 

He curled his lip. "No, I suppose it doesn't."

"And you alone saw what he did to me the last time he was angry, Severus!" She clutched the front of his robes with her free hand. "You, of all people…"

Before she could finish, they were both startled by the sound of a door opening within the office, pushed so hard it slammed against the wall.

"Wait a minute! You slept with Bellatrix?" It was Narcissa, looking exhausted… and livid.

"What are  _you_  doing here?" Bellatrix shook her head as if she couldn't quite believe her own eyes. "You and Snape?"

" _You_  and Snape!" replied Narcissa. "When?" She shifted her glare to Severus. " _Twice_?"

"I'm lost," said Bellatrix. "I need to sit down."

"No!" Snape's voice made her jump. "No, you cannot sit down, you need to leave! Hide that baby, hurry to the edge of school grounds, apparate back to Malfoy Manor, and pretend this never happened like you pretend  _most things_  never happened."

"I can't go back there! He's going to kill… to kill… He…" Bellatrix's thought trailed off as she and Snape both felt heat emanating from the Dark Marks on their left forearms. They exchanged a look.

"What is it?" asked Narcissa, tugging anxiously at her sleeves. "Are you being summoned?"

"No," murmured Bellatrix. "But He is nearby. And He is angry."

"We must go," whispered Narcissa. She turned to Snape. "Thank you for... everything. You'll keep Draco safe?"

"You know I'll do as I can, Narcissa."

"And you'll keep yourself safe?"

"I said I'll do as I can and I will."

Her eyes darted from him to her sister and back again. She started to walk toward the door but instead, as if acting on sheer impulse, she ran back to him and placed a quick kiss on his lips. He did not press his lips back against hers, but did allow his eyes to close just for a moment.

"Thank you," Narcissa whispered. "It's all I ask. I owe you."

"The fuck?" Bellatrix repositioned the baby, sizing up Snape and her sister, wondering if they'd gone mad, or if she had.

"Let's go," said Narcissa. She threw her own traveling cloak over Bella's front, hiding baby Nova from the world, and guided her toward the door. "I'll explain at home."

"Better be some explanation."

Snape closed the door behind them, without another word.

"I'll explain at home," Narcissa began again as they hurried through the halls, " _After_  you tell me when and why you slept with Severus."

"It's not much of a story," Bellatrix said. They made their way out to the castle grounds. "But if you truly want to know, I'll tell you."


	18. REVEALED

**CHAPTER THREE:**

**Revealed**

Neither Bellatrix nor Snape knew what the Dark Lord was doing or when He would return to Malfoy Manor, but as of nightfall, there was still no sign of Him. Their Dark Marks continued to emanate heat, leaving them and a few of His other inner circle members with a dull, aching throb in their left forearms, but aside from that, nothing.

In her bedroom at Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix was changing the baby on the bed while Narcissa sipped red wine straight from the bottle.

"Must you do that?" snapped Narcissa, shooting her sister a disgusted look.

"No, I usually let her change herself, like I told Snape, but since I'm here I figured I'd help her speed things along."

"I meant on the bed. You could put a towel down on top of the dresser and do it there. You know, when I was raising Draco, I used to send the squib girl into the nearest Muggle village for these disposable ones they have, you use once, then throw away."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I haven't yet handed my baby over to be raised by three house elves and a squib girl."

"I get it!" said Narcissa, throwing her hands in the air. "I was a bad mother! I know! You've told me, Mother told me, Andromeda's told me... Merlin, Lucius tells me all the time! I understand! Everyone is a better damn mother to their babies than I was!"

Bellatrix smiled cruelly. "I don't disagree."

"Sod off!" Narcissa took another long swig from the bottle.

"Speaking of Andromeda," said Bellatrix. "You look just like her right now. She's got a drinking problem too."

"I haven't got a drinking problem," snapped Narcissa, not questioning how Bella knew this about their estranged sister. "I have a  _stress_  problem. You told me you'd explain when and why you slept with Severus Snape. Well, I'm waiting."

"You first." Bellatrix pinned the new nappie in place, snapped shut Nova's soft cotton white one-piece sleep set, and placed on her back in the crib. The baby stirred for only a moment before falling asleep. "Tell me quietly. Don't wake her up."

"Oh, no." Narcissa shook her head, one hand on her hip, the other wagging a finger. "You first."

"Damn. It's nothing, Cissy. I… if you must know, I took his virginity almost seventeen years ago and I did it solely because the Dark Lord told me to. Your darling Snape was all torn up on account of that Mudblood girl he liked being marked for death."

"Lily Potter?"

Bellatrix was momentarily taken aback. "Yes. You knew?"

"He told me. Continue."

"Well, he begged the Dark Lord not to kill her and the Dark Lord said He wouldn't, but in the interim He said He thought Snape's problem was just that he needed a good shag. I mean, the man was twenty, twenty-one, and He'd never even properly kissed a woman. It was pathetic."

"So it's true then, what they say?" Narcissa settled herself cross-legged on the end of Bella's bed, her coffee-colored skirt flared out around her. "The Dark Lord's been passing you around for years. And here I believed you when you said He thought you were special. Turns out He just thinks you're easy."

This stung like a slap in the face, which is almost how Bellatrix responded to it (by slapping Narcissa across the face). Her hand twitched, but she kept herself calm. "He hasn't been  _passing me around_ , thanks. He simply saw a problem within His ranks and thought I, given my considerable talent in that area, could solve it."

"Thus He whored you out to Severus Snape."

"He didn't  _whore me out_ , Cissy," Bellatrix said through clenched teeth, remembering a similar argument with Snape months earlier. "And I don't flatback for him either!"

"I don't even know what that term means," said Narcissa, "But I don't think it's unfair for me to equate what you did on his demand with prostitution."

"It was nothing like that at all. He simply asked me to perform for Him a favor and that was the favor."

"Sex with His subordinate was the favor?" Narcissa laughed mockingly. "Sorry, but that sounds like the very definition of whoring you out."

"Take that back." Bellatrix aimed Rabastan's wand at her sister's chest. "You take that back, Narcissa Malfoy, or so help me…"

"Stop it." Narcissa pushed her sister's wand hand away. "You'll do nothing to me and you know it. You're only angry because you know I'm right."

"Well…" Pink spots formed on Bellatrix's pale cheeks. She  _did_  know her sister was right, but she'd be damned if she'd admit it. "Snape wasn't exactly eager, in love with the Mudblood as he was, but I convinced him a little playtime was in his best interest. He should have been grateful, but instead he resented me for it. Can you imagine? I gave myself to him for an entire evening, as a  _gift_ , and he woke up the next morning bitter and hung-over and remorseful."

"What do you mean, 'he wasn't exactly eager'?"

"I told him I was there on the Dark Lord's request. He tried to send me away, but I knew I couldn't leave until I'd done what I'd been sent to, so I had to seduce him a bit. A lot, really. I kissed him a few times, he protested, I touched and stroked him until he couldn't remember why he was protesting, I mixed him a drink, went down on him, he gave in, we messed around, I transitioned him from a boy to a man. You know, that sort of thing."

"Basically, you molested him until he consented?"

"Don't be an imbecile, Cissy. A woman can't assault a man in that way."

Narcissa didn't feel up for an argument, but it certainly sounded  _that way_  to her.

"I simply taught him what a woman's touch could feel like and he responded accordingly… eventually. Honestly, he wasn't very good, but  _I_  was, so I don't understand  _why_  he ended up resenting me for it when he should have thanked me. Didn't do any good in the long run, though. He was still wrapped up in that ginger Mudblood, so my efforts went unrewarded. I suppose I should have just told the Dark Lord 'no' in the first place and let Snape remain a damn virgin for the rest of his life, which you know as well as I he would have. I mean, really. Who else would want him?"

"There was a second time?" asked Narcissa coldly, ignoring those last remarks.

"It was nothing," said Bellatrix dismissively. "Even less meaningful than the first time. Please. Now it's your turn. You told me Christmas day you were  _not_  sleeping with Snape. I asked you straight out, multiple times if I recall, and you lied to my f…"

"I didn't lie! At the time, I wasn't sleeping with him."

"But now you are? What, did I plant the idea in your mind?"

Narcissa avoided her sister's gaze, unwilling to answer.

"Cissy, I asked whether you're sleeping with him now. I believe your silence has my answer, and yet..." Bellatrix grabbed onto her face, forcing eye contact, so she could probe Narcissa's mind. Despite Narcissa's best attempts to force her out, Bellatrix saw flashes of what looked like multiple trysts – at Spinner's End, at Malfoy Manor, at Hogwarts, in the Forbidden Forest, in an alleyway, even at one location she couldn't identify.

"My, my, my," she said, backing away, as Narcissa furiously buried her face in her hands, visibly embarassed. Bellatrix grinned wickedly. "Looks like you've had yourself a  _lovely_  little affair!"

"It's nothing," Narcissa insisted. "Less meaningful than either time he's been with you."

"Not possible." Bellatrix climbed onto the bed, straddling her sister, and grabbed her face again. "Let's see more, Cissy, shall we?" She intruded into her sister's memories again, this time catching a glimpse of them on what looked to be that night Bellatrix was attacked, just before Christmas. Snape had Narcissa pinned against the hall in Malfoy Manor, one hand on her thigh, the other creeping up her side, his lips on her neck. Only steps away from the Dark Lord's door. A noise down the hall made them freeze…

"No, we shall not see more!" Narcissa shoved Bella, hard enough that she fell backwards onto the hardwood floor. "What's my business is… mine! Besides, shouldn't you be busy thinking up ways to convince the Dark Lord not to kill you when He gets here?"

A sick feeling twisted up in Bella's stomach. Narcissa was right.

"If you're going to be that way, leave me," Bellatrix demanded. "I want to be alone with my daughter."

Narcissa stood, offering a hand to her sister, who was still on the floor. Bella, pouting, ignored it.

"I'm sorry, Bella. I'm sorry that I pushed you. It's just… you push me all the time. You push me into revealing things to you that I don't want to, into doing things I don't want to do… you always have! I love you, you know I do, but these last few years… I'm exhausted, Bella!" Her eyes filled with tears. Bellatrix finally accepted the hand up as Narcissa continued her apology.

"I'm sorry, I really am, but I can't go on like this! I can't have Him in my home! I can't keep cheating on my husband but I also can't continue being married to a man who treats me the way Lucius does; it's gotten so much worse since his return from Azkaban. I'm sorry, but I can't stand waking up every morning wondering if today is the day it all falls apart, the day I lose one of my sisters, or my husband, or a friend, or whatever it is I have with Severus, or… or… or… heaven help me, but every morning I wonder if  _this_  is the day I lose my  _son_!" Her voice broke on the last word. Gently, Bellatrix used her thumbs to wipe the tears from Narcissa's cheeks.

"I'm broken, Bella. I feel broken inside. I'm afraid all the time! I'm living with so many secrets, such terrible secrets, dangerous one, and I've never been good at keeping them but I have to or lives will be lost and Bella, I can't anymore, I just can't! That's why I went to Snape tonight. That's why I went to him in the first place! I was scared. I needed someone to talk to, someone who would listen and not make me feel flawed or pathetic or like a traitor to our side. He lets me  _talk_  to him, Bella. I get to talk to him and then I sleep with him and it works out for both of us because I need someone to talk to and he needs… well, he's a man, you know what he needs, and I suppose maybe I need it to, to escape, to feel  _wanted_ , to feel human, to feel like I'm not here for awhile, like I'm someone else, and I… and I… I don't want to lose my  _son_ , Bella! You're a mother now, you must understand! Draco is my  _everything_! I can't do it. I'm not like  _you_. I'm not like  _Andromeda_. I'm not headstrong or brave or independent or confident in my abilities. I mean… the Sorting Hat nearly put me in Hufflepuff!"

Bellatrix backed away several steps, uncomfortable but this showing of emotion, completely at a loss for how to halt the breakdown her sister seemed to be in the middle of.

"Hufflepuff?" she asked awkwardly, eyes darting at the crib, hoping Narcissa's noisy hysterics wouldn't wake the baby.

"Yes, Hufflepuff! I never told you or Meda because I knew you'd both make fun of me, but the Sorting Hat said I was loyal and patient and dedicated and that would do well there but all I remember thinking was 'please, no. Merlin's beard, no! You can't do this to me. I'll do  _anything_  to be in Slytherin with my sisters. I'll  _die_  in Hufflepuff. I'll  _kill_  to be in Slytherin!' and he said, 'Well, if you want it so much you'd kill for it…' and he sent me to Slytherin but Bella I've always known I'm not like you and Andromeda! I'm not cunning or resourceful or sly or ambitious…"

"Stop it!" snapped Bellatrix, grabbing onto her sister's shoulders. "You  _are_  all of those things, Cissy! Look at you! Look at yourself as I see you! You must be at least somewhat sly and resourceful to have carried on this fling of yours without getting caught, right? This affair that you entered into for purely selfish reasons? And you're certainly cunning. I heard about your efforts after the first war to keep yourself and Lucius out of Azkaban. You used every tool at your disposal, including appealing to Mother, didn't you? That miserable hag. And as for ambitious, well, you got pregnant to make Lucius marry you, right? Tell me the truth, it wasn't an accident, was it? You wanted to be a Malfoy because it was good for you, the prestige, the money, the security. You did it on purpose, didn't you? That's ambition."

Narcissa nodded. She was sobbing so hard she couldn't speak.

"You're just scared. It's fine. We all are, sometimes… yes, even me. I don't want to die, you know, especially…" her eyes again darted to the crib in the corner. "Especially not now. But I have confidence in my abilities and I believe in our cause and I know everything will be alright."

"No!" shouted Narcissa, whose hands were shaking so hard she dropped her wand. Bellatrix picked it up and slid it into her sister's dress pocket. "No, you don't know, Bella! Andromeda thought everything would be alright! She thought her husband, on the run, would be safe, that he'd get away and someday, someday he'd come back to her, but he's not safe, is he? No! He's dead! And Draco, he thought he could carry out his task and kill Dumbledore but when it came down to it – well, you were there! – He froze! He froze, he couldn't do it! He's got a good heart, my Draco. He couldn't kill Dumbledore and he couldn't identify Potter and that… that… that  _hesitation_ , it's going to get him killed! I've coddled him, partly to make up for what an awful mother I was when he was a baby, I've spoilt him and loved him and done everything I can to keep him safe and it might be for nothing, Bella, because we could all die any day, at any moment, and if Dumbledore's side doesn't kill us the Dark Lord might, so we're in danger from every direction! There's nowhere to go!" Still sobbing and now exhausted by this outburst, Narcissa slumped back onto the bed, unable to hold herself up.

Bellatrix was torn between being annoyed at her sister for showing such weakness and feeling compelled to wrap her arms around her and be her protector. It was the same when they were children. She was always both annoyed by her youngest sister's tears and pain  _and_  spurred to action by them. Tonight, she chose the latter, wrapping her arms around her sister, lifting her back into a standing position, pulling her into a hug.

"Don't cry, Cissy. It won't be for much longer. We've almost killed Potter more than once. It's just a matter of time before the Dark Lord defeats him and with him, the entirety of Dumbledore's blood-traitor army will crumble, so there will be no more resistance to our cause. The Dark Lord will rule over the Wizarding World, restoring order and honor to all witches and wizards, and we'll be able to live out in the open as we deserve, not oppressed by Muggles or held back by Muggle-lovers. You and I and Draco and Lucius and… and Snape…" she shuddered at his inclusion, "We will be handsomely rewarded for our unending loyalty and service to Him! After it's over, you and I might even be able to convince Andromeda to see our side. Now that her husband is dead, she won't have him pulling her away from us anymore, she'll be able to see reality, to remember where she came from. We'll all be together again. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Cissy?"

Narcissa nodded, her tears soaking her sister's shoulder.

"I'm sorry you've been so lonely you had to sleep with Snape," added Bellatrix, smiling. "That must have been awful for you."

With a snort of barely concealed laughter, Narcissa pulled away. "It wasn't. He's actually very good. Much more attentive than Lucius."

"Yes, well… I suppose I taught him well, then."

Narcissa pushed Bellatrix playfully. "You did not."

"Okay, I did not, but  _somebody_  must have because he used to be terrible. Or perhaps your standards are low, considering. Is Lucius the only other man you've ever been with?"

"You know he is." She slipped a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her runny nose. Her eyes, still damp, were red-rimmed and puffy from sobbing.

"There you go, then," said Bellatrix, snickering. "You've got little to compare Snape too. And I do mean  _little_."

If Narcissa realized what Bella meant by 'little' she didn't let on.

"Speaking of Lucius, I need to go find him. I told him I left the other day without a word. He'll want to know where I've been. I'll say I heard about the break-in and returned immediately to be with you."

"It's almost true."

"It's true enough." Narcissa hurried to the door, but upon opening it, paused, looking back at her sister. "Bella? Do you really think Andromeda might come around once the war's over?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "She'd be stupid not to. What choice will she have? She'll need us."

"Yeah," agreed Narcissa, smiling slightly. "I think so too."

A second later, Bellatrix was alone. Suddenly exhausted herself and somewhat overwhelmed, she picked up her daughter and laid down on the bed, letting the infant sleep against her chest, her tiny ear positioned just right to listen to her mother's heartbeat. Bella closed her eyes, trying to mentally prepare for what she'd say when the Dark Lord arrived, but instead a memory came to her, a memory of the second night she shared with Snape, the one she wouldn't be telling Narcissa about.

The good one.


	19. FLASHBACK

**CHAPTER FOUR:**

**Flashback**

_January, 1996._

_She'd been out of Azkaban for four days and the Dark Lord hadn't yet made an effort to track her down. She knew He'd been keeping a low profile since His return, but He was the reason she and the others had managed to break out, so what was the purpose of this ominous silence, this lack of reunion, this complete absence of communication?_

_Hadn't He_ missed _her?_

_Ten of His Death Eaters had escaped, including her husband and his brother, then, like rats, they scattered. Thus, for now, she was on her own._

_It was publicly believed that they'd been aided in their escape by her cousin, Siruis Black, which would have been laughable to anyone who knew him. It was certainly laughable to Bellatrix, who folded the three day old copy of the Daily Prophet she'd manage to nick off someone she passed while loitering outside Gringotts in Diagon Alley, and tossed it in the bin. She had finally managed to visit her sister at Malfoy Manor early that morning, which meant she was again in possession of her wand. She used it to perform a couple of rudimentary appearance-changing charms. She knew they wouldn't last – everyone knew the best way to change appearance was by using Polyjuice Potion, which was currently unavailable to her – but at least she could now skulk around Knockturn Alley and Muggle London without fear of being instantly identified._

_She pulled the headscarf tighter over her unruly black hair, one of her most recognizable features (also one she hadn't managed to alter), and glanced in the mirror above the headboard of the bed in the room she was now renting on promise-to-pay. She was certain the inn's proprietor had realized straight away who she really was, though she'd given a fake name (Trixie Riddle), but he'd always liked her so he'd agreed to her "I'll pay you double what it's worth as soon as I can access the funds" offer. He was the same man who'd let her rent a room several times when she was underage, simply because she needed to escape home overnight or spend a few hours sleeping off the few drinks she wasn't old enough to have had. It was the inn above the pub where she'd met the Dark Lord, and where He'd later taken her for a weekend, when she was supposed to be on a Hogsmeade visit with the rest of the school._

_With a tap of her wand, her deep-sunk eyes lost their blue irises, her skin lightened to its usual marble white, and the full pink cheeks she'd used as camouflage again became hollow, high cheekbones, partially indicative of malnutrition. Now she was seeing herself as she truly was, and damn. It was a depressing sight. She shouldn't have looked. Her face was haggard, gaunt. The dark circles around her eyes magnified how wide and mad-looking they now were, her formerly full and pouty lips were chapped and dry, and she was inarguable emaciated. She removed the headscarf. Even her hair, her favorite feature, was no longer made up of thick, healthy, untamed black curls. Instead, it was limp and brittle, a veritable rat's nest, without its usual luster… she even spotted few strands that had gone mutinously grey._

_"_ _You used to be beautiful," she lamented to her reflection._

_"_ _We all 'used to be' something," the mirror answered back. Bellatrix rolled her eyes. She was sickly, hungry, annoyed, and impatient, and not at all in the mood for a commiseration session with what was supposed to be an inanimate object._

_She had to take action._

_Using the wand to create her Patronus, a large, wide-winged vulture-like bird, she sent it off with a message to none other than the loathsome Severus Snape, double-agent and potions professor at Hogwarts. If he knew what was good for him – and for the Wizarding World – he would do as she demanded and meet her in 24 hours at his home in Spinner's End. Alone._

_She knew it was risky, but she was too distraught to care._

_The following day, she apparated far enough away from his home that she'd be sure to avoid any wards or enchantments designed to trap her there, and walked a path through woods far from town toward his dismal little corner of the universe._

_She knocked four times on the door, paused, then knocked twice more. It creaked open. There he stood, tall and slender as he'd always been, but with broader shoulders, wiser eyes. He was unarguably a man now, not the gangly, awkward boy she had last seen the night she took advantage of him at the Dark Lord's request, only a matter of weeks before the Killing Curse rebounded off that nasty little Boy-Who-Lived. She swore under her breath. That fucking boy. Thirteen years and almost three months ago, he'd survived the Killing Curse with nothing to show for it but a scar, and he'd manage to keep himself alive ever since. Too damn long, but, she hoped, not for much longer._

_"Bellatrix Lestrange," Snape said, sounding bored, as if he found former Death Eaters at his door every day._

_"_ _Missed me?" she asked, pushing past him to enter his home despite the lack of invitation to do so._

_"_ _Not even for a moment," he answered dryly, closing the door behind her. "Won't you come in?"_

_"_ _I am in."_

_"_ _I hadn't noticed."_

_She looked him over, aware he was sizing her up the same way. She wore a simple floor-length dark gray dress stolen from a Muggle shop hours after her escape, something a school marm might wear, but with a low scoop neck that highlighted her protruding collarbones. He, in turn, was wearing a long black robe, open, over a black shirt and black slacks._

_"_ _You're as interesting a dresser as you ever were," she said sarcastically, wand at the ready, checking around his hallway for signs of a trap. He nodded, but rather than comment back on her attire (too easy a target), he replied, "They didn't feed you in Azkaban?"_

_"The cuisine left something to be desired," she said, still checking for wards, enchantments, or signs of danger._ _Ignoring her movements, he made his way to a liquor cabinet in the parlor and poured them each a drink. Bourbon. She shot him a nasty look. He knew she wasn't much of a drinker, and after nearly fourteen years without a drop of liquor, the hard stuff could certainly take her down. Still, she accepted the glass, sniffed it, and took a sip._

_"_ _My stepfather used to drink this," she said, clinking her glass with his. "Usually until he passed out."_

_"_ _Presumably to escape the pain of spending time with you," Snape said._

_Bellatrix laughed, removing her headscarf and tossing her thick black hair over her shoulders. She'd washed it twice at the inn so it looked better than it had, but nothing like the way it used to._

_"_ _If only you knew how very wrong you are," she said bitterly, pushing the thought of Stepfather from her mind, regretting she'd even mentioned him. Unfortunately, as much as she hated to admit it, the memory of_ that man _had plagued her brain regularly when she was exposed to the Dementors. She fought those memories back only by replaying her many intimate encounters with the Dark Lord over and over again in her mind, determined to keep her sanity, confident He would return._

_"_ _Why are you here?" asked Snape with obvious suspicion. "Your message was quite clear that I should be here at this time to speak with you, that I come alone, and that I tell no one. It wasn't easy for me to get away, you know. I can't be gone long. Dumbledore is on high alert."_

_She spit on the floor at mention of Dumbledore's name._

_"_ _Do you mind?" said Snape, waving his wand to clean it. "Evenesco."_

_"_ _Sorry." She neither sounded nor looked apologetic. "Forgot you don't have house elves to clean up after you, like those of us of good breeding."_

_"_ _Oh?" he raised an eyebrow. "Still so high-brow? Tell me, did you have your own_ personal _house elf in prison, or did you have to share with the other captured lowlifes on your cellblock?"_

_With her right index and middle fingers, she flipped him the two-finger salute. He ignored the offensive gesture._

_"_ _As I was about to inform you, Dumbledore is aware that the Dark Lord has returned. Potter announced it to the world at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. Or hadn't you heard?"_

_"_ _I heard. Where were you when everyone else went to Little Hangleton? Lucius said you were conspicuously absent."_

_"As Lucius is well-aware, I was a_ _t Hogwarts, of course," said Snape, as if he thought Bellatrix very stupid. "Where do you think I was?"_

_"_ _Under the nose of your other master? That's precisely where I thought you were."_

_"_ _Keeping my position safe with the knowledge that I could then be invaluable to our shared master, yes." He sipped his bourbon. She gulped hers, emptying the glass. He poured her another._

_"_ _You're going to get me drunk," she said in an accusatory tone, but she didn't stop him from making it a double._

_"_ _You're in charge of how much you consume, woman. Don't blame me if you overdo it, then follow up by doing something stupid."_

_She twirled her wand between her fingers, no longer worried she'd been set up or was about to have Ministry officials sprung upon her. She regarded Snape carefully, settling her gaze on his eyes, dark as her own, before asking, "What stupid things do you think I might do?"_

_"_ _I think most of the things you do are stupid," he said, turning his back on her to avoid eye contact, even though he was as skilled at Occlumency as she was at Legilimency. He poured himself a second drink, also a double. "Why are you here?"_

_"_ _I want to know where He is."_

_"_ _You…" Snape turned from the liquor cabinet, looked Bellatrix up and down the way she'd done to him, then burst out laughing. "You haven't seen Him, have you? He hasn't contacted you since your escape? Oh, but_ why _, Bella?"_

_She bristled at the use of the Dark Lord's pet name for her, one only He and her sisters ever used. Snape continued to smirk at her._

_"_ Why _wouldn't He have sent for you_ right away _? Aren't you His_ special girl _, the one He trots out to do all his_ dirty work _?"_

 _She raised her crooked wand, aiming it at his smarmy face. "Don't laugh at me! You've been out all this time. I haven't. You've seen Him since His return. I haven't! It's isn't fair! I want to know where He is. I_ need _to see Him."_

_Snape downed his bourbon in a few great swigs, ignoring the burning sensation that traveled after the liquid down his throat. He placed the glass in the cabinet and stepped toward Bellatrix, who set her own half-full glass down on the end table._

_"_ _Poor, poor Bellatrix Lestrange. Gone to Azkaban for her lover, broken out after nearly fourteen years, and He hasn't even called upon you. Do you reckon this means you're not as special as you thought you were? Perhaps you were a mere_ convenience _to Him all along, and now that He doesn't need you…"_

 _"_ _He_ does _need me!" She puffed up her chest and straightened her back in the most arrogant way she could manage, but she knew the haughty look was far less impressive than it used to be given her current appearance. "He broke me out of there for a reason!"_

_"_ _You and nine others. Perhaps He's with one of them now. Or perhaps He's calling upon those who didn't make it into His inner circle last go 'round? Euphemia Rowle, perhaps? Your husband's always liked her, hasn't he? Or maybe our Dark Lord's currently satiated in the bed of…"_

_Whomever Snape was going to suggest next, Bellatrix didn't wait to find out. She hit him in his wand arm with a stinging hex and laughed shrilly when his bicep swelled. It was the first spell she'd sent in anyone's direction since retrieving her wand and it felt great._

_"_ _Now, now, Bellatrix," said Snape, drawing his own wand, holding it above his head, ready for a duel. "That was not polite. I thought we were engaged in a friendly chat, and now you've gone and attacked me. How would you like it if I attempted to rearrange your features? Perhaps I could make you pretty again." He shot a nonverbal spell in her direction, but whatever effect it would have did she didn't learn, as she ducked. The streak of light made contact with an empty, dusty vase above the fireplace, causing it to shatter._

_"_ _Tell me where He is!" she demanded desperately. She sent another curse his way, but using Protego, he blocked it. "I need to see the Dark Lord!" She attempted a third curse. Again, he blocked it with ease. She seethed. Clearly she was not as quick as she used to be. Out of practice. All those years._ _Snape, on the other hand, had improved considerably. Wordlessly he threw a jelly legs jinx her way, which brought her to the floor._

_"_ _You're kidding? This… this…" She struggled to make her legs keep still, "This is child's play! You've been at that school too long!" Finally she was able to make the jelly legs stop. Still on the floor, she glared up at him, then stuck out her tongue. He snickered._

_"_ _If you're going to act like a child, I will treat you like one." He moved to hit her a second time with something else, but she rolled away, sprung to her feet, and used one of her favorite jinxes, of her own design_ _–_ _a rope-like whip from the end of her wand, which snapped around his throat, dragging him to the floor – to again get the upper hand._

_"_ _Bitch," he snapped when the rope disappeared. "Sectumsempra!"_

_A slash mark appeared across her left arm and upper chest, ripping part of her dress. It was a long, deep cut that would surely leave a scar. She touched the blood and shot him a nasty look. There was a moment's pause during which both considered their next course of action. Bellatrix moved first, glass crunching under her high-heeled boots._

_"_ _How's your Mudblood girlfriend?" she inquired cruelly, simultaneously sending a counter-curse his way. "Still dead?"_

_"_ _Don't talk about her," he said, sending one straight back._

_"_ _How's her son?" asked Bellatrix, ignoring the blood that was tricking down her chest. "Heard he looks just like his father. Must be a joy for you, seeing him every day."_

_"_ _As much a joy as it must have been for you, living with Dementors for over a decade. I'm certain they would've sucked out your soul, if you had one." He cast a jinx but she blocked it and returned with another, hitting him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him._

_They continued like this for several minutes, moving around the room, exchanging verbal barbs, jinxes, and curses, more than two thirds of which were blocked by the other before making their mark. Finally she got him again with her rope/whip, knocking him to his knees. She leaned against the back of the couch, grinning triumphantly down at him._

_"_ _Give up, Dumbledore's man?"_

_He moved slowly to his feet, hands raised, looking as though he was ready to admit defeat, but then he called, "Expelliarmus!"_

_Her wand flew from her right hand. She leapt back to catch it with her left (which she did. Azkaban had not completely damaged her previously impeccable reflexes) but the distraction was what he was going for. He shoved her over the back of the couch so she was lying on it, facing the ceiling, then he apparated to the other side, pinning her down, holding her left wrist down to the arm of the couch, thus she couldn't direct any spells from her wand his way. Her right hand was trapped between his chest and hers. His knees were on the floor, but his upper body pressed flush against her. He tapped his own wand to her chest, which stopped her cut from bleeding, but did not heal it. They were both breathing heavily._

_"_ _I hate you," he said._

_She smiled._ _"_ _I know."_

_"_ _I mean it." He held her down tighter. "I loathe you."_

_She smiled wider. "I know."_

_His fingers gripped her wrist so hard she was certain he'd leave a bruise. "_ _I absolutely abhor you."_

_Despite his steely glare, she was still smiling._

_"I know. You_ hate _me, you_ loathe _me, you_ abhor _me…" She arched her back, pressing her breasts into his chest as her eyes searched his. "But you_ want _me."_

_He maintained that eye contact for a long moment before replying, "I know."_

_With that, his mouth was on hers, lips parting, tongues battling. He maintained a firm grip on her left wrist, but lifted his body up an inch that she could free her right hand. She snaked it around to the back of his neck and dug her nails into his skin, just enough. He groaned, shifting his body so that he was now completely on top of her, running his hand up her stocking, pleasantly surprised when he reached her bare right thigh. She bent her leg, grinding against him, desperate for touch. It had been such a long, long time since she'd last had sex. Thirteen years, ten weeks, six days, and approximately twelve hours… not that she'd spent her abundance of free time in Azkaban counting._

_His lips moved to her neck, her throat, and down across her chest and shoulder, where the red lines from his hex still showed against her pale skin. Finally he released her wrist, slipping his hand down her raised arm to caress her left breast, getting blood on his fingertips in the process, which they both ignored._

_"_ _Yes," she moaned, bucking against him, as he tore along the cut in the material of her dress – the cheap grey dress she'd stolen from a Muggle stop in London – and moved his mouth there, flicking his tongue over her nipple, sucking at her, slightly scraping his teeth along her skin. She could feel her arousal building - and his as well. Clearly, as he had with nonverbal magic, he had greatly improved at this since their last encounter too._

_She, in turn, dropped her wand and worked her left hand down his front, removing his robe with his help. Then she pulled up his shirt, up and off, and traced her nails down his bare back. She quickly worked at his belt and pants, pulling them just enough to grant her access to his rapidly hardening member, as he magically divested her of her clothes, save for her thigh-high stockings and white slip (also cheap, also Muggle-made, also stolen). He slipped his fingers inside her, rocking them back and forth, as she stroked him._

_"_ _Damn it," he muttered into her hair. He was angry with himself for losing control because he genuinely hated her, the Dark Lord's whore, the woman who'd stolen his virginity and fucked up his head... but at the same time, he was entirely unwilling to stop._

_"_ _Now," she demanded, digging her jagged nails into his shoulders. "Do it now."_

_They were both still breathing heavily – yet in a way, barely breathing – when he entered her. It didn't last long, a couple of minutes maybe, but that was all either of them needed. He finished inside her, kissed the bloody cut on her shoulder, and pulled himself up, quickly redressing._

_"_ _I don't know where the Dark Lord is at this moment," he said as she retrieved her wand from the floor at the end of the couch. "But I know where I need to be: Hogwarts, lest Dumbledore become suspicious in my absence. If I get fired from my post, it will be significantly more difficult for me to spy on the Order, as the Dark Lord requires of me."_

_She was still on her back on the couch, lips swollen from kissing, chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath, head fuzzy from her first orgasm in well over a decade. Worldessly, Snape summoned a small glass bottle from a shelf across the room and gently tossed it to her. She made no attempt to catch it, thus it landed on her stomach._

_"_ _Essense of Dittany will clear up that mess," he said, gesturing toward the cut that spanned her chest and shoulder. "I assume I can trust you to see yourself out?"_

_She nodded._

_"_ _Very well," he said. "Goodbye."_

_With that, he disapparated._

_Though curiosity once would have prompted her to stay and rifle through his things, she was suddenly eager to return to her tiny room at the inn in Knockturn Alley. She had a feeling the Dark Lord, when He was ready, would know to look for her there. She applied the Essence of Dittany, dressed quickly, downed the rest of her double bourbon (which she retrieved from the end table) and prepared to apparate away. Before doing so, she glanced down at her left forearm, where the Dark Mark had been growing steadily more obvious over the last year. It was throbbing, but she was not yet being summoned._

Soon _, she knew._

_He would find her._

_She would be ready._

The memory had just concluded when a noise at the door made her jump. She had been so consumed in her thoughts it took her a moment to remember where she was, what she was doing. She heard the noise again. A knock. Could it be Him? Would He knock?

Cradling the baby, who'd fallen asleep on her chest, she got up and hurried to the door, flinging it open, Rabastan's wand at the ready just-in-case.

There He was, looking more powerful than she'd ever seen Him, red-slitted eyes flashing with a mix of madness and fury.

"Master," she said, hugging the baby close, stepping back to let Him in. She launched into her apologies. "Master, my Lord, about the vault, about Hufflepuff's Cup, I am so sorry…"

"Silence." His voice was cold, calm, calculating. "In two hour's time I will apparate to the Shrieking Shack outside Hogsmeade. I will summon all of my followers there. Together, we will storm the castle. Many will die. We will demand Potter, giving them until midnight to deliver him. We know he will come. He can't resist playing the hero. We will demand him, he will come, and we will kill him. By the time the sun rises on tomorrow, he will be dead, and I alone will rule the Wizarding World unchallenged. Understand?"

She gazed up at Him, her wide-eyed expression full of adoration and awe and affection, though she remained afraid. "Yes, my Lord."

He leaned forward and she thought He might kiss her, but instead He pressed his thin lips to the top of baby Nova's soft head. Bellatrix shivered. "When we've taken over everything," He said, "When the last of the resistance has given up, when it's safe to introduce her to the world, she will need a last name. Not yours, mine. You  _both_  belong to me."

"Yes, my Lord," whispered Bellatrix, wondering what His last name would be. Voldemort? Certainly not Riddle? She would ask later... now was not the time. He moved His lips gently to her own. She leaned into Him, slightly confused, but content to have Him this way rather than the way she'd expected.

"Place her in the crib, Bella," He demanded. She complied. He wrapped His arms against her waist, drawing her close. "My Bella." He was breathing her in as if He was a Dementor sucking out her soul (she did have one, no matter what Severus Snape said). Her heart fluttered as she felt a familiar longing between her legs.

"I thought you were angry with me, my Lord."

"Oh, make no mistake, I am, Bella. I am angry." He said, but He was smiling, and His hands were caressing her arms and hips in the gentlest way, a confusing juxtaposition. Her stomach twisted. Perhaps the most frightening thing in the world was this - this not-knowing. Not knowing what He was thinking, how He would react, whether He would turn on her in a split second. She bit her lip, waiting for Him to continue. When He did, His voice was just as steady, just as calm... just as unnerving.

"While I was checking on my… on matters of my concern, in the back of my mind, I was contemplating what to do to you upon my return."

"I'm sorry," she whispered, but He placed a finger to her lips, silencing her apologies.

"My first thought was, of course, the Killing Curse, but that didn't seem right for you, Bella. It didn't seem right for you to die that way. It seemed - I hope you will understand this - it seemed beneath you. Also, quite honestly, I didn't feel that would satisfy my rage." He nipped at her bottom lip. She didn't move. She felt like a rabbit, scared motionless by the presence of a predatory wolf. Any wrong move…

"I thought about hurting you physically," He said, tightening the grip on her forearms. "I thought about doing worse to you tonight than I did in December."

She was too frightened to breathe, or even blink.

His right hand slid up from her arm, over her shoulder, to her throat. "I considered choking the life out of you. I gave you that cup to keep safe, and what did you do? You lost it, like you lost your wand to the girl. She must have taken something else of yours that day too… your hair, perhaps…" His hand left her throat and went to the back of her head. He grabbed a fistful of curls and yanked back hard. She gasped.

"I thought of how good it might feel to hit you…" He drew back His hand and she flinched, eyes closed, awaiting the contact that didn't come. "But what good is it to strike you, Bella? To injure you? To torture you? What good would it do to kill you? While I do not require anyone by my side – I never have – I admit, I rather enjoy having you around." She opened her eyes, searching His face, trying desperately to read His emotions, but He was more skilled at hiding them than any other Occlumens in the history of the Wizarding World.

"I could take any woman to bed if I wanted to. I could have any of my female followers… except, perhaps, your sister… and know that they would be more than willing. Or I could take what isn't mine, the way you and I used to, just for the fun of hearing them scream."

"Yes, my Lord," she whispered. The hand He'd raised to hit her lowered, settling on her lower back. His other hand remained on her upper arm, massaging it.

"But if I were to kill you, I would be doing myself an extreme disservice. And so I decided upon an entirely different course of action. I determined it would be far more prudent to stop playing these little games with Potter, to destroy the resistance once and for all, and I thought you should be there. You should be there when we finally kill the boy, when I officially take my rightful place as the ruler of the Wizarding World. I want you by my side, Bella, when I triumph once and for all. You've been so loyal to me, the most loyal. You deserve to watch him die. You deserve to reap the rewards with me."

Consumed by love and desire for her Master, she threw her arms around His neck, pulled Him down, and kissed Him soundly on the mouth. This surprised Him. In the past, when she'd been the aggressor, the one to make the first move, it had always been through the art of seduction, or with words, or by changing her appearance in a way she knew He would like. She had never simply grabbed Him and kissed Him before… like a girlfriend.

He pushed her away and slapped her face, hard, knocking her back. As she steadied herself and made eye contact with Him, she brought her hand up to touch her stinging cheek. Otherwise, she made no show of having been hurt by His reaction.

"On  _my_  terms," He reminded her, shaking His head.

"We only have two hours, my Lord," she said, her voice hardened. The attitude she'd had back in December returned. "Do you want me or don't you?"

He smiled and the smile grew into a laugh. "This is precisely what I like about you. You always get straight to the point. Come closer."

"I don't know that I want to," she said, aware that it was precisely this level of insubordination that had gotten into so much trouble last time.

"I won't hurt you," He said, reaching out a hand toward her. "I promise."

She slipped her hand in His, allowing Him to pull her toward Him. When they were flush against each other, He wrapped His arms around her, stroking her hair. She wrapped her own arms around Him and kissed the center of His chest. He brought His lips down to hers and they kissed, a long, drawn-out kiss, exactly what she'd been hoping for when she'd made her move moments ago. When they finally parted, slightly breathless, He placed His cold, thin lips against her forehead. "Just as we wizards must remind Muggles of their rightful place," He murmured, working at the buttons on the front of her dress, "Sometimes I must remind you of yours."

"You know that Snape commands the power of the Elder Wand?" she responded. She couldn't be sure why this was her reply; it actually quite surprised her when it left her lips. Perhaps she felt guilty about reliving her last intimate memory of him a short time ago. Perhaps she simply wanted to be of use to Him.

"Thank you," He said, voice low. "I am aware of that and will deal with it accordingly at first opportunity. But I appreciate your drive to assist me."

"Of course, Master." She moved her head to the side, granting Him better access to her neck. He sucked lightly on it while continuing to undress her. She, in turn, unfastened His cloak and set to removing His robes while pressing her body to His as much as she dared. Against His bare shoulder she murmured, "I belong to you."

His snakelike mouth hovered by her ear. "Yes, you do."

"Forever," she whispered.

"Yes."

"And you're mine," she dared to add. To her pleasant surprise, He did not disagree.

"Yes.," He hissed. "And in two hours, my Bella, the end of this war will begin. But for now, right now, _I need you_."


	20. WAR

**Chapter Five:**

**War**

They demanded Harry Potter be handed over by midnight.

At exactly one second past, Voldemort gave the command to storm the castle.

He did not go Himself. No, that would not be prudent. But His followers fought on His behalf, including Bellatrix. They made several kills, both indiscriminate and significant ones – just to show how serious they were – before declaring a one-hour cease fire, giving those inside Hogwarts time to collect their dead, and a second opportunity to hand over Harry Potter.

In the interim, the Dark Lord with the knowledge that that the Elder Wand did not have His allegiance, ordered Nagini the snake kill Snape in the Shrieking Shack. Though Bella was not sorry to hear of his death, she did momentarily wonder whether it would impact her already fragile sister, Narcissa, as she suspected there was more of an emotional connected between them than Cissy'd let on... especially from  _her_  side. Which, quite honestly, Bellatrix thought was pathetic. Who falls for someone simply because she's slept with him? More importantly, who the hell falls for  _Snape?_ Bellatrix sneered at the thought of him. She'd never been entirely convinced of his loyalty to the Dark Lord, and, frankly, she was jealous of the faith her Master put in His double agent. No, she wasn't sorry to see him go.

In between ruminating over the death of Severus, seeking out her niece, and mentally preparing a talk to have with her sister later, Bellatrix wondered how her daughter was faring alone at Malfoy Manor, with only house elves to keep her safe and content until her parents' return.

Narcissa was right. Now that Bellatrix was a mother, she better understood the pain of worrying over one's child. For the first time, she truly grasped how it must have felt for Cissy when the Dark Lord gave Draco the task of killing Dumbledore knowing he'd likely fail and be killed in the process. Now that Bellatrix was a mother, she almost felt badly about her promise to kill Nympadora, her sister Andromeda's only child, the so-called "Miracle Baby." She almost felt bad... but not quite.

Not enough not to go through with it.

"Stupify!" called Tonks the Metamorph, shooting a jet of red light out at her aunt, an attempt that was quickly and easily deflected. Bellatrix laughed, letting her niece get off a few more tries. "Stupify. Expelliarmus."

"Stupify, expelliarmus!" mocked Bellatrix in a shrill voice. "Weak spells for a weak girl. You're going to have to work harder than that to take me down!" Bellatrix was barely bothering to fight back. She didn't need to. "Didn't they teach you anything in Auror school?"

"I'm here!" called a voice. Bellatrix glanced toward the door. Remus Lupin was entering from the hall, like a knight charging in to protect his princess. Bella stuck out her tongue. This man-saves-woman display was sickening, as far as she was concerned. Hoping to capitalize on the momentary distraction, she sent a nonverbal curse at her niece.

"Remus!" called Tonks, using Protego to protect herself from it.

"You'll not hurt my wife, you madwoman!" yelled Remus. He sent a curse her way. She deflected it with a careless flick of her wand, as if shooing off a fly.

"Bite me, werewolf." She giggled. "Get it? Bite me, because you're a werewolf." The jinx she sent back at him was powerful enough to propel him back into the hall, where two other Death Eaters promptly engaged him in battle, preventing him from returning to his wife's side.

"Just you and me, little girl. Lovely time for a family reunion!" said Bellatrix teasingly. "What are you doing here, anyway? Don't you have a baby at home?"

"Don't you?" snapped Tonks, trying again to stun her aunt. Bellatrix grinned.

"Yes, but mine's going to see me again in a few hours. Yours is going to grow up wondering why his mummy didn't love him enough to…" Bellatrix nonverbally cast the Cruciatus Curse repeatedly between her next few words: "Just…" ( _Crucio_ ) "Stay…" ( _Crucio_ ) "Home!"  _(Crucio)_

"I know who it is," said Tonks, clearly in pain but fighting the effects as she'd been taught in Ministry Auror training. "The father of your baby. I know it's You-Know-Who." She repeated this in a scream. "Your baby is the child of Lord Voldemort!"

"That…" ( _Crucio_ ) "Is…" ( _Crucio_ ) "A…" ( _Crucio_ ) "Secret!"

Bellatrix was through toying with the girl. This game of cat-and-mouse was no longer fun, not if Nymphadora was going to be spilling family secrets for the world to hear.

Tonks opened her mouth, probably to scream out another stunning spell or again make an attempt at disarming her aunt, but Bellatrix was faster.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The girl slumped to the floor, dead. Easier than falling into bed. At that moment, Lupin burst in.

"No," he said, seeing his wife on the ground. Bellatrix laughed. She lifted her wand.

"Let me send you both home together," she said. But Dolohov, entering behind Lupin, beat her to it with his own Killing Curse.

"For fuck's sake, Dolohov," she pouted, as Lupin's body collapsed beside that of his wife's. "I was going to do that. You robbed me of the pleasure."

"We're being summoned back to the forest," said Dolohov. "Look at your arm."

Bellatrix glanced down. Just then, the announcement was made. All Death Eaters were to retreat.

For one hour.

Potter was to deliver himself to them, alone, within one hour.

They waited.

Time passed.

Forty minutes left.

Thirty.

Twenty-five.

The Dark Lord was growing restless. Bellatrix regarded Him with worry. What would happen if the boy did not come? They'd been so certain he would. Aside from her, the Death Eaters stayed back, giving space, not speaking. Not moving.

Seventeen.

Twelve.

Four.

One.

Bellatrix stepped forward to address her Master, but He held up a hand, signifying she should stand back. She ducked her head and retreated two paces. Then, there, in the distance…

The boy.

The half-giant began yelling, wanting Harry to go back, wishing he hadn't come, but the boy appeared calm, collected.

"Harry Potter," said the Dark Lord, voice soft "The Boy Who Lived… come to die."

An intense, overwhelming emotion swelled up in Bellatrix's belly, rising through her chest and into her throat. She willed air into her lungs, but couldn't seem to get enough. This was it. The boy didn't even look as though he intended to fight back. This was the end. They'd won!

Slowly, the Dark Lord raised His wand, pointing it at Potter. It would only take two words.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of green light, and the Boy Who Lived was on the ground, a threat to them no longer. They cheered! The Boy Who Lived was on the ground…

But so was the Dark Lord.

Gasping, Bellatrix rushed to her lover's side, kneeling beside Him. She shook Him but He did not stir. For far too long, He lay there, not moving. She felt panic rising within her where there had, mere moments ago, been joy.  _Wake up,_  she pleaded silently.  _Wake up, wake up._

Finally, finally, He opened His eyes. She worried He might be hurt, thus tried to help Him up, but He snapped at her and pushed her away. She landed on her knees in the dirt. Angry tears burned behind her eyes but she refused to let them fall and in seconds she had blinked them back, wiping the few escapees away with her sleeve, as she lifted herself up from the forest floor. The Dark Lord demanded Narcissa check the boy, to be sure he was not breathing, to confirm his death. Showing no emotion, as if she'd manage to separate herself completely from the woman who'd been falling apart in Bella's bedroom hours earlier, Cissy walked slowly toward the boy's body.

Standing over him, Narcissa seemed to feel the slightest bit of hesitation. She glanced back at her sister before crouching down beside his body. She appeared to be staring at his chest, listening for breath, her ear near his mouth. Bellatrix waited for word with her breath baited. Finally, Narcissa stood and faced her sister, her husband, the Death Eaters, and the Dark Lord.

"Dead," she said.

Yes!

The Dark Lord demanded the half-giant carry Harry Potter back to the castle, for his defeated, dead body to be displayed to all still fighting there.

"Harry Potter is dead!" the Dark Lord announced, crushing the morale of those fighting against them. He repeated it to cheers and laughter from the Death Eaters.

"Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

Bellatrix stood up on a rock, facing the crowd of students and teachers and members of the Order of the Phoenix, triumphant, as the Dark Lord moved into the center of the damaged castle grounds, His followers behind Him, facing those expected to defect. Bellatrix beamed. Just as it would be true for Andromeda, there was nothing left for any of them but for to give up, to give in. To join her Master, who now asked who would be the first to make their move.

"Draco," called Lucius, holding out his hand to his son. Draco didn't react. "Draco?"

Narcissa stepped forward beside her husband, also reaching out, her eyes pleading for him to come, to join her. "Draco?" she said softly. Finally, he stepped away from the crowd, toward his parents. He was embraced by the Dark Lord, as they all would be, if only they were smart enough to switch their alliance. Once Draco was close enough to touch, Narcissa hugged him and guided him back into the crowd of Death Eaters, further from the Dark Lord. Away, even, from his own father. Bellatrix resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Even though she could now comprehend the agony her sister experienced over the threat of losing her only child, she still thought the little display was sort of beneath them.

Then, another boy stepped forward.

She recognized him. Neville Longbottom, whose parents she'd tortured into insanity. Bellatrix laughed mockingly, but she was also both surprised and pleased that he'd jumped ship so quickly.

Except that's not what he was doing.

He wanted to continue to fight.

Even while being burned by the Sorting Hat, mocked by the Dark Lord, and marked for death, he did not come to his senses. He wanted to continue to fight.

Stupid boy.

Then, without warning, he pulled a sword from the hat.

Bellatrix's eyes widened. She knew that sword. The sword that was supposed to be in her vault. Of course, considering the break-in yesterday, she supposed she'd be lucky if there was  _anything_  left in her vault.

Chaos erupted around them. Hagrid's giant brother was leading an attack on the Dark Lord's giants, centaurs had joined the fight, and the battle was back in full-swing, moving toward Hogwarts' entrance hall.

Bellatrix was watching when, with one fell swoop, Neville lopped off the head of the snake, Nagini.

Blood and death were all around them. One by one, they were being defeated. Stunned, disarmed, a few even killed. She watched as their ranks thinned withotu Yaxley, Dolohov, Macnair, Rookwood…

How could this be?

Potter was dead!

They had won!

Why were these idiots still fighting?

And where were the others? Lucius, Narcissa Draco…? They had gone, disappeared, disapparated, probably. The cowards. Bella would certainly be talking to her sister about this later. You don't just take your son and go home, not in the middle of a war!

In the center of the hall, the Dark Lord battled with Professors McGonagall and Slughorn and a tall Ministry wizard Bellatrix did not know, Kingsley Shacklebolt. She knew her Master could hold his own, even against those three at once, and so she continued to fight her own battles, against, among others, that little Weasley girl Potter was rumored to like. Killing her would feel good, better than killing Nymphadora, but, as usual, Bella did not hurry along with the task. As Dumbledore said shortly before his death, Bellatrix liked to play with her food before eating it.

That said, she was about to end it, to finish off the girl and move on to a bigger challenger, when the ginger's mother, Molly Weasley, jumped in.

"Not my daughter, you bitch!" the woman screamed. Bellatrix laughed – well, almost laughed – but then, square in the chest… she hadn't seen it coming… she didn't even know what incantation the woman had used. There was a second – no, a fraction of a second – during which Bellatrix knew she was going to die. Her last thought was of her baby daughter, Nova Black, at Malfoy Manor in her crib awaiting her parents' return from her father's victory, soon to be given a proper last name.

That was the last image in her head, her very last thought.

Then she was gone.

And, in realizing this, the Dark Lord screamed.

Not that the memory of a person's last happy moments matter once that person has died, but if Bellatrix had been asked about hers, it would not have been when she murdered her niece, or when she stood on the rock facing the defeated crowd, or even when she saw the Dark Lord finally kill Potter, nor was it when his death was confirmed by her youngest sister.

No, it would have been right after she and the Dark Lord had concluded making love the evening before, during the two hours before the final battle was to begin.

She'd expected Him to be angry with her for the loss of Hufflepuff's Cup from her vault at Gringotts. She'd expected, perhaps, a repeat of the night He'd savagely beaten and raped her, sparked by her insubordination during a meeting at Malfoy Manor, made worse when He learned that she'd slept with her husband against His wishes the day before.

What she had not expected was for Him to be attentive, gentle, passionate... and almost…  _dare she think it?_ … loving.

After she'd placed baby Nova Black in her crib as requested, He'd wrapped His arms against her waist. "My Bella," He'd murmured, drawing her close, breathing her in as a Dementor sucking out her soul.

She'd kissed Him. He'd hit her. They began undressing each other. She told Him she belonged to Him.

"In two hours, Bella, the end of this war will begin. But for now, right now, I need you."

"Yes, my Lord," she'd whispered.

When she'd completely freed Him of His clothing and He of hers, she knelt on the bed, facing Him. He stood at the foot of it, His knees barely touching the mattress. This way, they were nearly the same height.

She ran her hands up from His waist to his chest to His shoulders and His hands made their way down from her neck, over her back, to her hips.

As He kissed and touched her, she closed her eyes and pictured Him as He was, back when they met. Approximately 41, charming, virile, good-looking. She was too young for Him, too inexperienced, too impressionable… and yet, it many ways, He'd treated her like an equal, right from their initial meeting. Apparently, He remembered it well, too.

"I knew you were special at first glance," He hissed as she sucked at His neck. "You were reading Magick Moste Evile in that pub down on Knockturn Alley. Remember?"

"Of course I remember," she answered, kissing his shoulder, his chest. He guided her to her knees on the floor. She took Him in her mouth.

"You were beautiful." His fingers entwined themselves in her hair. "You were wearing a black corset with silver underlay that hugged your thin frame and enhanced the curve of your breasts, remember?"

Without removing her mouth from Him, she nodded.

"You had high cheekbones, dark eyes… skin pale as snow. Your hair… I've always been drawn to your hair…" He tugged at it. She moaned and the vibration of it made Him go slightly weak at the knees. "You had an air about you, like you were better than anyone else and you knew it. I wanted you then. I wanted to taste you, to tame you, to claim you as my own. And I have, haven't I?"

She looked up at Him from the floor, meeting His eyes. "Yes," she whispered.

"Come here."

She stood. He tossed her effortlessly onto the bed. His snakelike tongue made its way down her body the way her kisses had on His.

"You were so young," He murmured. "So young…" He entered her with His tongue. She gasped. It had been years – dating back before her stint in Azkaban – since He had last pleasured her in this way. Blissful waves of passion washed over her. She bit her lip until she tasted blood, afraid to cry out and wake the baby, as her hands grasped at the sides of the pillow under her head. Once her orgasm had subsided, He moved back up again, this time wrapping His mouth around her nipple. This sensation was still too connected with feeding her daughter to bring her the sexual gratification it used to, thus she instead guided His mouth up to hers. They were still kissing when He entered her. She met Him thrust-for-thrust, gasping for breath, consumed by her longing for Him. Their mouths moved almost as quickly as their hips. At one point she was certain she'd left the mark of her teeth on His shoulder. She could feel the bruise His mouth had made on her neck. When He pulled her hair, she gasped, unable to keep herself silent.

"Harder," she requested, and He complied.

After He came, exploding inside her for the first time since the night He 'punished' her for Potter's escape from Malfoy Manor, He collapsed on top of her, completely spent. Though they didn't have much time, He didn't leave right away. Instead, He rolled onto His back, pulling her with Him, so her head rested on the left side of His chest and shoulder.

"How many times have I told you that you belong to me?" He asked.

"Countless."

"You won't forget it?"

"Never."

From the crib there came a cry. The baby was awake.

"Bring her here," He demanded, surprising Bellatrix. She wrapped herself in the quilt from the end of the bed and hurried to pick up her daughter.  _Their_  daughter. She carried the baby back to the bed. The Dark Lord took the quilt and covered them with it, again positioning Bellatrix so she had her head on His chest, this time with the baby beside her, Nova's tiny ear against His heart. He played with Bella's hair as she stroked the baby's back, calming her. Nova stared at her mother, eyes focused. Bellatrix smiled. Their baby was nothing short of perfection.

"You are content?" the Dark Lord asked. "It pleased you, giving you this baby?"

"Yes, my Lord," she whispered. "Very much so."

"You have always been my most loyal, Bella." He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I could think of no better way to reward you than this."

An unfamiliar feeling swelled in Bella's chest. It took a moment to realize what it was: love. She thought she'd felt love before, and she supposed she had (she was certain she had) but this was different. More powerful, overwhelming. For the first time since her father died, before Mother married Stepfather, she felt as though she belonged, as though she had a family, her very own family. It wasn't perfect, certainly. Not with having to keep her daughter a secret, not with the promise of war literally an hour away. But it was family and it was love and it was hers.

She'd never felt happiness like that before.

Little did she know, she never would again.

* * *


	21. Chapter 21

**EPILOGUE:**

**Four Months Later**   
  


Andromeda sat at her kitchen table, sipping her tea, listening for the gurgling, giggling, or crying that would indicate her grandson, Teddy, had awoken from his nap. The five-month-old was just starting to roll over. Sometimes he did it in his sleep, surprising himself, and then woke up scared, needing to be returned to his back. He was a sweet baby, bright, with thick tufts of hair that changed color several times per day, just as his mother's had.

Though Andromeda hadn't liked Remus Lupin much, she wasn't able to resist buying Teddy an adorable stuffed wolf that morning. It had a crinkly belly, soft limbs, and a tail he could chew on. She'd purchased it, she supposed, with the nonsensical hope it would someone connect him to his deceased father. Maybe she also bought it out of guilt… she hadn't wanted Nymphadora to marry him. Remus's lycanthropy aside, he was too old for her, too poor, to indecisive, and unwilling to commit. And, if she was being perfectly honest, she  _couldn't_  put his lycanthropy aside. She hated to think that the old myths of the importance of blood-purity had stayed with her all these years after she left her family to marry Ted, but she couldn't help thinking her daughter could do so much better.

When Lupin had taken off on Tonks, Andromeda was secretly relieved. She assured her daughter they could raise the baby together, Nympadora and her parents, and that he (or she, they didn't know yet) would never want for anything. But then Remus and Nymphadora got back together. He said he wanted to be a husband and a father. Plus they were in love, Nymphadora assured her mother.

Nymphadora had been so certain she and her husband would live happily ever after.

Damn it. Andromeda pinched the bridge of her nose, not wanting to cry, but it still hurt.

It still hurt to be without her daughter. Every single day, every single moment the baby was awake, when she'd look into his eyes and see Nymphadora, it hurt.

It hurt to be raising her grandson, alone.

It hurt to be without her husband, the only man she'd ever loved.

She was glad the war was over, grateful, of course, but she would never get over those losses. It hurt as much nearly four months later as it did on the first day.

A crack outside made Andromeda jump. It sounded like someone had apparated right into her garden.

"Harry?" she called, instantly on edge even though the Wizarding World was in recovery and there had not yet been any attempts by surviving dark wizards to harm those on the side of the Order. On the contrary, most former Death Eaters were already in prison. Azkaban was being guarded by the Ministry with help from Grawp and the other giants he'd converted to their side. The Ministry was being fixed too, led by Kingsley Shackelbolt, the only wizard who seemed up for the task. At Hogwarts, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall was preparing to welcome students in one month for the next year, though the castle hadn't completely been repaired. The previous term's seventh years had been invited back, any who wanted to attend, since it was believed they'd been cheated out of a year's education. Andromeda knew that Teddy's godfather Harry and his best friends (Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger) would not be among them, but she hoped at least a few of their peers would take McGonagall up on the offer.

"Hello?" called Andromeda, making her way toward the door. She flinched when there was a knock from the other side. "Who is it?"

"It's your sister," said a familiar voice. Andromeda was taken aback. Her sister? No! What was  _she_  doing here?

"Please," called the voice from the other side of the door. "Please, I know you must be angry, but I need you to speak with me."

"You need me to speak with you?" Andromeda laughed at the absurdity. Though she figured she'd regret it, she opened the door. "Narcissa Malfoy, what could you possibly need to speak about with me?"

Andromeda looked her younger sister over, her gaze settling on Cissy's midsection.

"You're kidding," said Andromeda, shaking her head. "Well, shocked as I was when Bellatrix came to me in the same condition, I suppose since I didn't turn her away I shouldn't cast out you either."

"This isn't what I want to talk to you about." Narcissa stepped aside, revealing the small pram she'd hidden behind her. "I don't know what to do about this."

Andromeda regarded the pram and shook her head again. "You put a baby in it, Narcissa, then push it around. Glad I could help. Goodbye." She attempted to shut the door, but Narcissa blocked it with her foot.

"Please!"

Andromeda bit her lower lip as Cissy twirled her hair, the way Mother always hated.

"It's hers, isn't it?" asked Andromeda, nodding toward the baby carriage. Narcissa nodded.

"I've been caring for her, ever since…"

Andromeda interjected. "I heard you lied to… to Lord Voldemort." Though Harry Potter had insisted after the Dark Lord's defeat that he forever be called by his name ("Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself!") she still found it difficult.

"Yes," said Narcissa, expressionless. "I told him the boy was dead."

"But he wasn't."

"Obviously."

"Why?" Andromeda opened the door the rest of the way but still didn't move to let her sister enter.

"I asked him… about Draco… I was worried… my son might be dead. He… answered me. Said he was alive… I… I didn't care, I mean, I… Potter's being alive or dead, it didn't matter to me, so long as Draco… The Dark Lord, He didn't care if Draco lived... He didn't care about anyone, not even Bella... He... I... Draco..."

"Quit stuttering, I get it," said Andromeda, tossing her hair. She looked so much like Bellatrix whenever she did that. "I begged Nymphadora not to go that night. I threatened to put her in a full body bind to keep her here, but she insisted she had to be there, for her husband. Now they're together, I suppose. That's some comfort, isn't it?"

"Is it?"

They stared at each other. From inside the house, Andromeda heard the sound of baby Teddy crying.

"Come in," she said, exasperated, since she couldn't let him wail all afternoon and doubted Narcissa would leave even if she closed the door in her face. "Sit in the kitchen. We'll have tea. First I have to see to the baby."

"Could we have wine?"

Andromeda ignored this question, entered Teddy's room, which used to be Nymphadora's, and picked him up. She changed him, kissed his tiny fingers, handed him the stuffed wolf, and carried him back to the kitchen. When she got there, she found Narcissa sitting at the table, holding a baby girl, two glasses of wine and a bottle in front of her.

"You didn't say no," said Narcissa with a shrug.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Andromeda snapped, taking the bottle away but leaving the glass.

"Nothing is wrong with me." Narcissa took a long sip, ignoring Andromeda's judgmental glare.

"At least when Bellatrix came over to get drunk, her pregnancy didn't show yet."

"Bella came over here to get drunk?" Hurt flashed across Narcissa's pale face. "She didn't tell me. Is that what you meant when you said she'd been to see you in… in this condition?"

"Did you ever get around to telling her  _you'd_  been here?" asked Andromeda, purposely not answering the question. She sipped her own wine, balancing baby Teddy and his toy wolf in her left arm. "Did you tell her you warned us before the second time Death Eaters came to torture us? Did you tell her that you were the reason Ted went on the run, because you told us they'd be coming for him?"

"I…" Narcissa shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose that slipped my mind."

"We've all kept secrets," Andromeda said offhandedly. "And we've all told each other things we probably shouldn't have. That's what sisters do, I suppose. Lie and confess."

"I miss her, Andromeda."

"She killed my daughter, Narcissa." Andromeda's voice was cold, even colder than it had been when she first opened the door. "I don't consider her my sister anymore. I'm not sure how I regard you, either, for the record."

"That's fair." Narcissa shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She sipped more wine. "I can only have one," she announced, tapping the glass. "Don't let me drink more."

"Trust me, I can finish the rest of the bottle myself. So. You and Lucius are expecting?"

"Well…" Narcissa's eyes darted around the kitchen, seeking something – anything – to focus on beside her sister, her sister's grandbaby, and the baby sleeping beside her in the stroller. "One of us is expecting, anyway."

"What?" Andromeda leaned forward, shocked. "It's not his?"

"I… well, honestly, I don't  _know_. I had a little…  _thing_ … so I can't be sure…" Narcissa fiddled with a loose strand of hair, a sure sign she was keeping something from her sister. "Lucius says if it's  _not_  his he'll divorce me, which I can understand, but at the same time… I mean… he slept around on me for twenty years and I never once threatened to divorce  _him,_  you know? Plus  _I'm_  the reason he hasn't been sent to Azkaban."

"Because you lied on behalf of Harry Potter?"

"Yes. And because I pressured him to turn in everyone… everyone who tried to run. Our former friends. The Dark Lord's most ardent supporters, including those who avoided Azkaban last time. Thus far we've testified against Rabastan, Rodolphus, Hortensia, the Carrows, Yaxley, Dolohov, Macnair…"

"That must make you a target, if any of You-Know-Who's supporters are still out there."

Narcissa bit her lip, glancing back toward Bella's baby. "Yes, some of them are and I imagine they're not happy with us. But a lot of things might make me a target at the moment." Without realizing she'd done it, she moved to rest the hand not holding her wine glass on her swelling belly. Andromeda nodded.

"Who's the father?"

"He's dead."

Andromeda raised an eyebrow. "His name died with him, did it?"

"If…" Narcissa took a deep breath and let it out slowly. " _If_  my husband is not the baby's father, only one other man could be, and no one would be helped by… by knowing about it."

A sharp cry from inside the pram startled them. Narcissa lifted out baby Nova. She balanced the six-month-old in her lap, supporting her carefully, since she still couldn't quite sit independently. Teddy's face lit up at the sight of the girl – his second cousin, or maybe first cousin once removed? He reached out to touch her.

"She's kind of cute," said Andromeda, not quite sounding like she meant it. "She has our sister's eyes. Nice complexion. Sort of fat."

"She's gained a lot of weight since I started giving her formula. Bella was breastfeeding, if you can imagine. The thought of it rather disgusts me, but she seemed to enjoy it. She said she felt like it was a bonding experience. Can you imagine? Bellatrix Black talking about having a bonding experience with a baby? Severus –  _Snape_  – once saw her doing it and commented that he found it disturbing because it humanized her, which didn't mean much to me at the time, but I've found myself thinking on it since, for some reason. Maybe because, since the war ended, she's been made out to be as evil and sadistic as the Dark Lord Himself, which I just can't... I just can't abide, not having known her... before. In any case, Bella also insisted breastfeeding would take the baby weight off. No idea where she heard that."

Despite the intense hatred she'd been feeling toward her sister since Nymphadora's murder, Andromeda had to laugh.

"I told her that," she explained, catching Cissy's puzzled expression. "It  _does_  take the weight off. It did for me. I was down to my pre-baby weight in a matter of months. It took you ten years."

Narcissa scowled. "Two years."

"Five years."

"Fine, five." There was an uneasy silence as both contemplated the absurdity of this same conversation held between Andromeda and Bellatrix, which had taken place nearly a year ago.

"So you plan to raise that one?" asked Andromeda, pointing at Nova, who was sucking on her own little fist, ignoring Teddy, who was still cooing and reaching toward her.

"How can I? No one knows she exists. I was permitted one visit with Rodolphus in Azkaban. I asked what he wanted to do. He suggested giving her a new identity and paying Euphemia Rowle to raise her. She was a Death Eater too, but too low-level, she won't go to Azkaban, no one cares enough to try and put her there. He said there should be enough gold left in his and Bella's Gringotts vault to keep Nova fed and sheltered until she comes of age. I don't like the idea, especially since I discovered last December that he'd been having an affair with Euphemia, but what can I do? She's not mine. And I'll have my hands full enough with this one, especially if Lucius casts me out. I can't exactly get by on my good name, you know?" She scoffed.

"Not to mention the damage it could do her, growing up in our world with  _that name."_

Narcissa furrowed her brow and sniffed the baby's head, which smelled of powder and shampoo. "What's wrong with Nova? I think it's pretty."

"I didn't mean her literal name. I meant her parentage."

"Yes, well, being Bella's baby would be difficult, I'm sure, but…"

"I meant because of her father. Oh! Merlin's beard!" Andromeda's face took on an expression that Narcissa interpreted as a mix of revulsion and worry. "I do hope that baby and yours don't have the same father."

"You think I was sleeping with Rodolphus?" asked Narcissa, equally horrified.

"What? No!" Andromeda gave an involuntary shutter at the very idea. "Cissy, Rodolphus isn't the baby's father. I… how… how could you think that? You lived together for over two years! Didn't she tell you  _anything_?"

"You mean you think my husband impregnated my sister?" This seemed to scandalize Narcissa even more. She bounced the baby gently on her knee, shooting Andromeda a wounded look.

"You can't be serious! She hadn't slept with Lucius in over twenty years!"

"Bellatrix slept with my husband over twenty years ago?" With every question, Narcissa's voice rose in pitch. Andromeda shook her head. She quite literally couldn't believe her ears.

"You  _lived with her_  Cissy! You were  _close_  with her! Are you  _really_  telling me you don't have any idea who the father of that baby is?"

Slowly Narcissa shook her head, feeling dense.

"It's  _His_ , Narcissa. The baby's father is Lord Voldemort."

Narcissa's hands flew up to her face. The baby dropped from her knee, but thankfully Andromeda's quick reflexes saved her. She grabbed and flicked her wand, using a hovering spell to suspend the infant in mid-air, allowing time for a stunned Narcissa to hold her again. Nova and Teddy both giggled. Apparently this little trick was amusing to anyone still in need of nappies and bottles. As a matter of fact, Teddy seemed so delighted by it, his hair turned black and curly, like his cousin's. Nova's eyes widened. She was now able to see more clearly at a distance, and apparently this appearance alteration surprised her. She opened and closed her pudgy hand, as if waving to him. He replied with a toothless grin.

"Oh, dear," said Andromeda. She turned him to face her. "Teddy Lupin, you change yourself back right now!"

He didn't really understand what she was saying, but the distraction of being so close to her was enough and the thick hair on his head again became straight, turning bubblegum pink.

"How do you know?" whispered Narcissa. "It can't be."

"Of course it is! She didn't tell you? She told  _me_. The day she came here, the day she came and told me she was pregnant, she sat right where you're sitting, we split a bottle of wine, and she got pissed off it, I took her to the bathroom to vomit, and she confessed that she was with child thanks to the Dark Lord, as she called him."

Now Narcissa felt sick to her stomach in a way that had nothing to do with the baby she, herself, was carrying. "Then it's settled. I absolutely  _can't_  keep her. I can't! What if someone finds out? I can't… like you said, I'm already a potential target! I have to think about my son, and my husband, and  _this_  baby. Besides, how can she grow up… how can she live… knowing  _that_? How can she go through life if people know? It would be bad enough growing up in our post-war world as the daughter of Bellatrix Black Lestrange, but to be the baby of Bella and that… that… that  _monster_?"

"I thought you were quite fond of Him," said Andromeda snidely. "You were among His most dedicated followers, were you not?"

"As I told you the last time I called upon you, it didn't much matter to me who won the damn war, so long as my son was alive in the end."

"I know how you feel," said Andromeda. "I'd almost prefer a world with You-Know-Who running it, if it meant I could have my daughter back."

Narcissa sighed, remembering how Bella had promised her their sister would come around once the war was won, how they'd all be together again. "She'll need us!" Bellatrix had promised. She'd been so sure they were going to win. Maybe she'd have been right about Andromeda switching sides, but she'd been so very wrong about the outcome of the war.

"So, who is it?" Andromeda leaned forward conspiratorially. "Your little offspring's father? I promise I won't tell a soul! Just give me a hint or…"

"Wait," said Narcissa, cutting Andromeda off. "You said Bella slept with Lucius over twenty years ago? How do you know that? Did she tell you? Did they have an affair? She always acted like she hated him."

"Make no mistake, she did hate him. I caught them in an alleyway once. We didn't speak of it – or of anything at all – until last year, when she intruded upon me after the first time my husband and I were tortured for information. At that time, she assured me she did it only because He made her.  _He_  being Lord Voldemort, of course. But I believe Lucius pursued her afterward, which she resented."

"Fuck," Narcissa swore, overcome by the desire to hex her cheating husband into the next century. She set her anger aside momentarily to continue the conversation. "The last time Bella and I spoke candidly, I accused her of letting the Dark Lord whore her out and she became angry, insisting it wasn't true. But I  _knew_. I knew what He was capable of. What I don't understand is how she could adore him the way she did, especially now, knowing… knowing she more than just adored Him." Her eyes darted down to Nova and she gave an involuntary shudder. "He was awful, Andromeda. The Dark Lord. He was awful to all of us but especially to her. I don't understand how she could hate Stepfather for all that he did to us as kids, but then turn around and  _love_  the Dark Lord, a soulless sadist who frequently  _beat_  her, and publicly  _cursed_  her, and savagely  _raped_  her…"

"Stop!" Andromeda held up a hand. "I don't want to hear this. If there's anything I don't want to feel right now, it's sympathy for the bitch who killed my Miracle Baby. Understand?"

"I'm sorry," said Narcissa. She kissed baby Nova's cheek. "I understand."

"So you're going to do as Rodolphus requested? Hand her over to Euphemia Rowle?"

There was a long pause, during which Narcissa carefully regarded the six-month-old girl in her lap, feeling utterly conflicted. Finally, she nodded. "She'll be better off, won't she? I shall tell Euphemia to spend all the gold she needs, but she'll have to take Nova far away, give her a new name, a new life. She shouldn't let her go to Hogwarts. She shouldn't tell her anything about her parents, not even about Bella. Nothing. And she shouldn't tell us anything about her, not her new name, not where she'll be living, not a damn thing. It must be kept secret. It's too dangerous otherwise."

"She'll be better off," Andromeda agreed. "You're doing the right thing." She finished her wine and poured a second glass. Noticing Narcissa's longing expression, she chuckled and summoned over the tea pot and a cup. "You can have tea. Milk? Honey? Sugar?"

"Just sugar, thank you." Narcissa looked down at Nova, who was gazing lovingly up at her. She felt an immediate twinge of guilt, wondering if the girl would miss her, the Auntie who'd been mothering her for four months, more than half her life. Narcissa shook it off. She was being silly. By her first birthday, she'd have forgotten the Malfoys entirely.

"Alright," said Andromeda, removing the toy wolf from Teddy's mouth. "If you won't tell me who you were with, will you at least answer this? Whoever he was, was it worth it? Did he treat you well? Was he in love with you? If he were still here, do you think you'd be together?"

"He treated me fine," said Narcissa. "Better than fine. He wasn't in love with me, apparently. But I think…" She twirled her hair again, in that way Mother hated. "I _know_  I was in love with him. That's why, once I knew he was gone, I couldn't… I thought about… I was going to take a potion, to get rid of it." Her eyes darted down at her swollen belly. "I had been planning to take it that night, maybe the next morning. Only he died and I just couldn't bring myself to, you know… in case it's his. But to your last question, about whether we… whether it would've come to anything… I can't say, but the fact is… He's dead, Andromeda, so there's no sense wondering, right? There's no sense dwelling on what might have been."

They talked for another half hour, during which Narcissa drank two cups of tea and Andromeda, as she said she would, finished the bottle of wine. By then Nova was starting to get fussy and it was time for Teddy's bath, so they agreed to part, with a promise that this goodbye wouldn't be forever. After so many years of estrangement, they suddenly felt that they needed each other. No one else could truly understand them, or where they came from, or what they'd been through. That was something only to be shared by two sisters.

"Do you really think I'm doing the right thing by giving her away?" asked Narcissa as she pushed the pram out Andromeda's front door. "She's all I have left of Bella."

"I genuinely think she'll be better off," Andromeda assured her, trying to suppress the pain that consumed her every time she heard her older sister's name. "And you will be too. She could be dangerous, Narcissa. She's not just the daughter of Bellatrix. She's the daughter of Lord Voldemort."

"Yeah," said Narcissa. She and Andromeda embraced. "Yeah, you're right."

"Goodbye," called Andromeda before shutting the door. "I'll see you."

"Yes," she confirmed, waving. Then she traveled home, heated up a bottle on the stove in the kitchen (without magic, since she was still teaching herself to cook), and fed baby Nova Black for what would be the last time. At nightfall, she would gather her things and take her to Euphemia Rowle's. According to Rodolphus, Euphemia had already agreed to the plan… so long as she'd be significantly financially rewarded for it.

 _"_ _I'm sorry, Bella,"_  Narcissa thought, gazing wistfully down at the now-sleeping baby.

But giving Nova away was the best thing.

For everyone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please leave me a review to let me know. Also, if you'd like to read more featuring this version of Bellatrix, Voldemort, Snape, Narcissa, and Andromeda, my fic "Wanting Narcissa" is a spinoff that spans from Easter 1996 through the end of the war, with an epilogue covering the many years that follow. Thanks again!


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